Rick's Posse
by deardiaries
Summary: Siren is a sixteen year old, zombie killing, kick ass girl with a conflicted head on her shoulders. It has been a year since the outbreak, a year since she was completely alone. Then she met Tobias, he and she became inseparable, she needed him as much as he needed her. Now, they search for shelter, but get kidnapped by Rick's group of "arrogant assholes." T for Foul Language.
1. Zombie Child

You can't be alone in this world. I tried after my parents died. Who will cover you back when you go in full on zombie killing mode? Who is the shoulder to cry on? Though I don't cry, or at least I ball up all my emotions until it is literally too late to control them, I just… _snap. _

The world doesn't feel as silent with Tobias' breath on the back of my neck, or his footsteps behind me. I can concentrate on that instead of whose mom I'm killing or when is the next meal.

I haven't showed in days, neither of us has… the world hasn't taken a shower in days and reeks of death. I used to think death was painless and dying hurts, here there is no end to the pain, death is pain here.

I don't want to think about that, I don't want to think about a lot of things. Yet when all I can hear is the pitter of Tobias' feet in front of me, I can't help but give in the letting my mind wonder. I did. As I look down at his combat boots that he had to pull off of a body, the sun lite the area around us in a bright florescent way, like this was a stage on a set.

My eyes scan the back of him, how muscular he is. His long legs walking along the road with his gun slung over his shoulder, and a bag over the other. He wears a black shirt with jeans and combat boots that suit him perfectly, I almost forget that they're stolen.

Over the black t-shirt is a tan jacket embedded with dirt. This was Tobias, dark hair thick and semi-sticking up. He was eighteen, has been for five months…I _think_. I'm pretty sure I am now sixteen but we both wear our pasts as a mask.

"Siren," he says. His back stiffens as he calls for my name in a stern tone. "Catch up." I roll my eyes and adjust my strap on my heavy bag before running up next to him. I look up at his face, still covered in patches of dirt. His face is plain and stares off out to the street.

My fingers tither through his and a surge of electrons pulse through and I feel as if I will melt when I am around him. _It is nice to see I still have a girl interior. _Then I frown, I don't want to have a girl interior, I want to be as fearless as Tobias.

"Four," I sigh, calling him his nickname. The reason, I will never tell. Some things even in an apocalypse need to be kept a secret.

He doesn't respond, only stares at the endless road of abandoned cars. My feet ache and my stomach grumbles. "Four," I say again trying to remember what I was going to ask, I bite my lower lip and feel the cracks from it drying out.

"Soon, I promise." He says. His voice is ringing in my head for some reason. I don't know why. His grip lightly squeezes my palm. I quiver.

The gun is a nine millimeter and sinks down in the back of my greyish-dirt pants. The feeling is still unnatural, how heavy the handle is, the kickback as I shoot. Tobias is built for things like this, his strongly built body could with stand anything. It is as if he had been shooting guns since he was five.

I smile, at least, even when the world is circling the drain, I will have him, telling me to keep up and scowling me if I do something wrong. In our group, he help teach shooting lessons, hence the skill, I never asked about his past before, and he never asked me. I am glad we keep these things to ourselves, it wouldn't matter anyways… we will still be running from zombies tomorrow.


	2. We the People

Tobias and I camped out in a ditch after it got dark, it wasn't the safest or smartest idea but we hadn't seen a, we call them Freaks, in the amount of time we have been walking down the road. My body ached as I stared into the depths of the flames. It was probably the one thing us people had left from our lives before... fire. Its the only thing that will remain untarnished in this catastrophic world.

"You should get some sleep," his voice crackled along with the fire he poked with a stick.

"I'll just wake up again," I replied referring to the countless number of times I had woken up stirred and forgetting where I was. I didn't look up, but I could feel his blue eyes on me.

He grunted, clearing his throat, "it is better than you not being able to shoot a Freak because you're too tired to pull a trigger."

I didn't feel like arguing when I could barely keep my eyes open. I scooted closer to him, resting my head on his stiff leg. For some reason, he feels warmer than the fire. When one of his arms coil around me, my eyes fall closed, this is when I feel safest, when all I can hear is the popping of sparks and hummed breaths from Tobias. Then I am dragged into an unknown horror film exclusively playing in my head.

My body jolts and my eyes thrash open. I am not breathing,but gasping for air. I can't feel the warmth or hear his breaths, I am alone. The world is too bright for it to be morning, and I feel my eyes sting.

Just before I lurch forward, arms clasp around be from behind. I sigh in relief. I look behind me and he is sideways lying on the grass. His eyes are squinted and tired but he seems awake. "Siren?" I frown, he wants to know but... "you don't have to, its okay." I curl back up to his chest, letting him wrap his arms around me again, his fingers stroke my hair.

I sniffle, I am not crying, I just feel the need to sniffle, and I like it, it feels familiar. My skin tingles from where he touched me, long streaks of prickles in my skin. It isn't painful, and even if it was, I wouldn't object.

"We are almost past the cloudier of cars, soon we'll be able to hot wire one and drive." He says without any pauses. His voice rings in my ear and I find myself wondering why we can't just stay here forever. I mean, what are we even looking for anymore? I want to ask, but it would ruin this moment.

"Tobias," I say, I can't remember why I even opened my mouth in the first place. I bit my lip, hoping je didn't hear me say his name and we can just lie there in silence. He strokes my cheek line, I shake. "That dream was about you." I didn't lie, it was one of the worst.

It is like I can feel the glare behind me. "Well whatever it was, it didn't happen," his hand leaves my face. Now it feels cold, but he grabs my small chin with his strong hand, bringing his lips to mine, "so don't worry about it." I frown staring at him because his voice was so sturn, like it was an order.

His lips kiss me again and I suddenly feel self-conscious because I reek of sweat and dirt. Then I smile in-between kisses, so does he.

"What?" He frowns at my smile, seconds ago I was sniffling.

I begin to giggle, then laugh. "You stink!" I laugh. It feels good, and I am shocked to hear it. From what I can tell he is to, he frown with a smile at the edge of his lips.

"Oh that, that's just my natural fragrance, and it is very sexy have you know." His voice is surprising to me, it is less serious. For once, he doesn't look twenty-five, but the eighteen year old kid he is. I smile, than laugh. He laughs with me.

Our lips join somewhere in the laughter, soft than harder. It is like we suddenly lost the need to breath because we kept going, then his lips traced down my neck. We alternate spots, first he rolls on top of me, kissing my face and neck, then I topple over him with my small body. The next roll, I land in something soft and pudgy. _Jello, _I think instantly. I scowl myself in my mind for doing it then panic. I push Tobias off with the palms of my hands. He jumps off himself.

I scuffle to my feet and wince in disgust. I rolled in something that looked like it belonged in chilly. It was dark red with oozing yellow pus from where I had rolled on it. Then I see the familiar looks of fingers. "Oh my...ah, eeewww." My heart is racing but not because it is a human hand, but because I had rolled on it. "Oh, gross, get it off Tobias get it off!" I flare my hands like a child in the air. "Get it off! Now!" I am stomping my feet and flailing my arms.

"Okay, stay still." He turns away from me.

"Uh, where are you going?" I snap in a high-pitched tone, still flailing my arms.

He raises and eye brow at me, "a shirt, you'll need a new one."

Frustration glides through my body and my teeth grit together, "this was my last shirt," I say through my closed jaws. I want to scream and throw a tantrum like I did if I didn't get something when I was three.

He turned and unzips his back, pulling out a grey t-shirt. His face is back to being serious like five minutes ago never happened, but I am too mad to care. He hands me the shirt and the cotton feels soothing on my skin. I turned away from him, showing him my sludge of Freak guts on my shirt. I put his shirt in-between my legs as I pull off my own shirt. It was the last strip of clothing I owned from before, besides the bright green converse I always wear.

Throwing the old one to the ground, I let the air compact my body. It feels the same as if did before, just the tingling feeling of exposure, not towards Four, but everyone else. I quickly put on the cotton shirt, it smelled like Tobias, lemon and ginger. It was bigger on me, so it slung down on one shoulder, and I turned.

"Ready," I say, but it is more for myself. He already has his bag over his shoulder, along with a rifle slung over the other. I walk to grab mine. The bag is just as heavy as yesterday, but today I am soar and ache as I lift the bag and slip into it. Together, we climb back up to the road, I look down at my shirt, its balled up on the ground, _goodbye shirt. _


	3. The Others

I don't know how far we walked, after a while the ache of my feet turned into blisters. Over the long narrow strip of cars I saw a long rectangular shape on the road. It was tan, from what I could tell, with brown strips along the sides. I squinted, "Four," I grabbed his elbow in front of me, he looked down with a frown. I pointed.

"Camper."

I looked at him staring through the distance, "do you think anyone is in there?"

He shrugged, grabbing my hand and navigating me through the cars. My head is light and my stomach turned, sick because haven't eaten or haven't eaten because sick? That is the question. I shook my head, there could be dying people in there and I'm worried about my stomach. Selfish.

"What if there are people," I ask him, never looking away from the camper.

"You already know the answer," he replies coldly, his grip slightly losing I gulp, latching on tighter. My hands feel sweaty, so I pull it away from him and wipe them on my jeans, I don't know why a bead of sweat starts to go down my spine... I am nervous when supposed to be strong.

This time, his hand finds mine, like he is making sure I wan't left behind in the abundance of cars stopped in the road. I feel safer knowing he knows I am just three steps behind his long legs.

The camper becomes clearer as we get closer to the stench of decaying substances. I say substances because "people" sounds too harsh and I could stand thinking about that. Was it them growing mold in their lungs? Did they give up? I swallowed hard, the thought of giving up made me have to double check to see if Tobias was looking forward and not scowling me. Why would they give up so easy?

Four lets go of my hand to cover his nose, and I mimic the reaction. The odor goes through my bare arm, the scent of burnt rubber and skunk fill my lungs. Gag. My finger tips are numb, my heart is pattering against my chest, threatening to break free. Feels like my legs are giving out, that my chest throbs from the punches my heart throw. Smells like flesh burning, like spilled gasoline and slashed sternums. Like the vomit rising in my throat.

"Oh my..." I am about to say God, but what God would do this? I had faith in a greater power, but He did this... I stare down at the road, my feet walking on the pavement, but He also gave me Tobias.

"Don't show sympathy, Siren. They are not people, someone already shot these Freaks." I don't know how to respond to 'don't show sympathy' then realize it wasn't directed towards me. His teal eyes are glued to my ankles.

"Look," I say. "It would be easier not to feel anything Tobias, by feeling anything we honor the last shred of humanity they had before put down." I feel like those aren't my words, then I realize, he said that to me when I killed my mother.

He looked up from my feet and into my eyes. It wasn't a look of sympathy or remorse, but staring at my strength that he knew was there, buried under guilt and fear.

He holds out his hand, its open and welcoming, I weakly smile. Its warm, open, and welcoming the only thing I will ever need.

"SOFIA WAIT FOR US HERE" is written on the windshield of a slowly pass the camper and make our way toward it. My heart is sore, we had an Sophia in our group, she was blonde with red highlights, no older than twenty-three. Our locked hands broke apart, it was so carefully put together, a reddish blanket above the trunk, cans of food stacked up with fading labels.

I cup the side of my face, I feel like its splitting in half. I am splitting in half. I want to ask Tobias if he thinks they found her, but my throat burns too much to ask, I want to eat this food but the guilt would stab me if I did. This was someone else's food, maybe a kids. I can't steal from a starving child...but I am a starving child, and so is Tobias, and I make the decision to take a can. Its heavy in my palm and I want to put it back, but it is too late.

"Fruit cubes," I say holding up the can. The label is white with faded orange scratches, I can barely make out the word "Fruit" in purple letters. He takes the can from me, looking at it in his hands.

"They found her Siren, we can take this." He says, his voice is level, unlike mine. He takes another, and another until he has four cans in his hand. I hold the water in my hands, it is as hot as the sun is with beads of water along the sides. "Put that in your bag, we can eat this once we find a car." My stomach groans at that.

As much as I hate the idea of taking food from someone who is lost, probably a kid, I am more upset we can't eat it now. I. Am. Hungry.

I shove the water in my bag, seeing splatters of blood on the hot pavement, it is brown and faded into the gravel. "Four, is there any chance we can just rest...for five minutes?"

He looks at me, back at the road ahead, then back to me. "No." He zips his bag up with the cans inside, "we can rest once we get there."

"Where is that, I have to ask? I don't even know what we are looking for anymore. Shelter? Food? What? I am so tired of going and going, Tobias, I am tired."

He grabbed one of my wrists, hard, his knuckles turning white. I winced. "If I have to throw you over my shoulder I will. Don't you dare give up on me now." He scowls me and I can't remember what I did wrong, speak my mind? "Don't you think I am tired? Having to tell you what to do, to motivate you. Siren, you are not dead, what happened to your family was _not _your fault." My eyes become cold, I can feel it, I pull free with a glare in my eyes.

I sling my bag over my shoulders, hitting his arm as I walk pass him. I feel like screaming, but I won't be alone long enough to do it.

"Siren, come back here," he says, I don't. He takes two long strides with his legs and is caught up with me. I don't want him to hear my heart racing, or my stomach moaning, I don't want him to know how badly I want to cry. He grabs my shoulder, him hand goes around it, I don't fight him, he is stronger no matter what. He grabs my jaw, making me look into his metallic eyes. "I am not going to apologize for saying the truth. And we are almost done on the road. As for being tired, well... deal with it." Tobias isn't the cuddling type, I don't think he ever was. He is a warrior inside and out, but he is my warrior, and I forgive him, there is no time in this world for anger.

I weakly smile, he releases me and takes the hand that was on my jaw and holds my hand. Its open, and warm and welcoming.


	4. An Arrow

Back before the neighbors started craving the tart flesh we flaunt around, I was a babysitter. I rode my favorite bike out, the streamers on the handle bars swimming in the wind, the basket on the back held my leather purse. I was a girl of habit, every Sunday I'd watch my television show, Saturdays were babysitting the Johnson's, and Monday I returned to school with my chin held high. That was until I went to school one Wednesday and stomped my math teacher's head in with my four inch heel. Its a good thing I hated the guy, but it didn't make it any easier.

The camper still clouds my head, how we stole from someone. This 'Sophia' person, I silently hope she found her people. Tobias would say 'she wasn't our problem,' and in my head, I'd argue, 'how can you be so cold?' Even though I know the answer. Hell, I'm living the answer to my question. I can feel the large t-shirt sliding off one shoulder as we walk what seems like an endless road.

There are things that never end. Traffic I notice as one of them, the highway is cluttered with cars, broken down, crashed, abandoned cars with the hoods up and dead bodies spooling out. The sour smell of dirty cloths mixed with a sickly fog that is always jammed in my nose, maybe that was just my interpretation of the smell of death. Whatever the case, these things that remain the same suck, instead of internet or blow-out sales I get singeing heat and smokey air.

"There," his feet stop mid-stride and his hand leaves mine. My eyes follow his long index finger as he points in front of us. I glare through the mash of cars and see a clear patch of road ahead. I shield my eyes by blocking the sun with my hand, looking at the grey, cracked road as if it were an ice cream cone and I was a five year old. "See it?"

"Yeah," my voice is more energized and joyful than I had anticipated, but I hold on to it. I feel a smile across my face, and it isn't some cheap, knock-off grin I use to hide away from how I'm feeling, it is a true smile. One of those, mom this brand new car is really mine, or how much money, looks.

"Come on," his arm latches on to mine again, my hand fit perfectly, like a puzzle piece in his large palm. His legs bolted, pulling my arm behind him. My shorter legs stomped clumsily trying to keep up with him, clanking to the cracked concrete.

"Ah, Tobias slow down," I laugh running, the feeling of joy kicking in. He stops short at the end of the crashed cars, letting go of my, now sore, arm. I squinted over the horizon, green, green, and more lushes green. No more cracked, grey roads that made my feet ache after a long day of walking or trucks blocking the highway.

I looked back up to him. He wasn't taking in the bliss as I was, instead he was glaring at a tan car sideways on the road. "1996 Chevy Impala," he says under his breath.

"What?"

He gives me an annoyed look. "The car Siren," he points with his arm over at the car. It was in mid-condition compared to some of the cars I had seen. I could learn to over-look the smashed in window with the smeared blood on the passenger side. "It is easily fixable, my mom had one when I was growing up." I didn't know much about Tobias' family, so whenever he talked about them, I tuned in with considerate eyes.

"There might be a small town near by, maybe some stores," I say looking back at the mysterious never-ending highway. Looking back at him, he nods and slings over his bag, setting it on the hood of the Impala. He forcefully jerks the zipper at pulls out one of the cans of fruit. Just like he said.

"Take a break, eat, I'll try and fix this piece of crap car and we can get the hell out of Georgia." No arguing there. With aching feet, angry stomach, and the reek of sweat I sank down on the hood of a teal colored van. Before Tobias hands me the can of peaches, he smashes the can hard on the road, the top creaking open and sweet, sticky liquid slugging out of the top. He digs his index finger and lifts.

"Breakfast of the champions," I smile as he hands me the jar, only after taking a sliver of finely cut sticky, yellowish peach. I tap my finger in the sweet glob and reel in a plump piece of peach. Without hesitation, I throw the sliver in my mouth, letting the sweet taste wake my taste buds.

Tobias reaches in for another and then goes to the hood of the Impala, I watch as the hood clicks open and I can only see a black tuft of hair on the top. I toss the can behind me after I eat the peaches, I hear the crash of a hallow tin can off in the distance and take pleasure in knowing I can still throw.

Minutes later, after Tobias has climbed into the car, I hear a hummed purr. The sound awakens memories of growing up, my dad telling me that when I turned sixteen, I'd get my very own car. Nevertheless, it is the end of the world, my dad is dead, my sixteenth birthday past without a second glance, and this would have to do. "Oooh," I say nabbing his back pack from the road and tossing it inside the car. I slide into the front seat next to him, the familiar smell of detergent and kitty litter filling my nose.

He smiles at the wire work, I quickly make note of it. _Red with blue. _Who knew it was so simple?

"Did you steal cars too," I ask admiring the purr of the engine beneath my legs.

He shrugs, like that is an 'I dunno' question. "The outskirts of Atlanta has its share of crimes, growing up there I had time to adjust." I nod imagining a smaller version of Tobias hot wiring and driving off in a car. Like now.

"So what's the plan? Drive until the car runs out of gas?"

"Like you said Siren, maybe there is a small town up road a bit. We are in Georgia deep enough that some houses should start appearing." I nod, adjusting myself to look at the small amount of clean, unbroken window and drifting off into a dreamless nap.

"Siren wake up," my body shakes under the pressure of a hand. My eyes break free of the crust that formed a gate over my eye lids. Yawning, I notice that the car has stopped, the brightness of the morning faded into a grey, bland evening. That isn't all, I see the outlines of buildings, more totaled cars, some Freaks someone had already shot in the head, I rub my eyes more and see it.

"Where are we?" I frown realizing he probably doesn't know. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Roughly an hour or two, I didn't want to wake you." His voice is still at a low whisper even though we are the only ones there. My eyes skim around through the window. Four buildings crammed together one is red, one green, and one bricked with red and brown bricks. A nice slap of concrete stretched across each end and a car parked through the window of the bluish building, which obviously was a gas station before the red SUV remodeled the window. Freaks are scattered around, dead of coarse.

"Did you," I point towards a corpse. He shakes his head shallowly.

"Was like that when I pulled up," his face is aware of everything around him, his eyes twitch back and forth. I pop the car door open and ease out of the car. "Siren!" I hear shouted back, but now I'm completely standing on the road out of the car. I sway back towards the car, but before I can plop back in my chair, a pencil wide arrow shoots from somewhere into my side, slicing through my skin like paper. I cry out in pain and thrash against the Impala.

"Awww, ahh," I see it, but my vision is blurred, everything around me shaky. I feel my own hot, red blood soaking up a spot of Tobias' shirt. My legs feel limp, my head numb.

"WHAT THE HELL?" I hear shouted, I can't tell if it is behind me, far way, right in my freaking ear, or across the road. I only know it is not Tobias, because Tobias is out of the car, on the driver's side, gun out and pointing past me...or _at me_? I can't tell which is up or down, if I am spinning or still standing with an arrow in my side.

"PUT THE GUN DOWN!" Tobias' mouth never moved. That voice was female...I think. It sounded to high-pitched to be a man. "LOWER THE WEAPON!"

Tobias keeps the gun aimed, his eyes screaming his readiness to pounce. "Siren, get a hold of yourself," he says. It is the only thing that ins't confusing. He sets the gun on the top of the Impala, holding his palms open and held up high. "Okay, it's okay," the fire in his eyes suggest something different.

"Daryl, hurry," I hear and know it is the same voice that was yelling at me. "You shot her!" Shot who? Me? Shit.


	5. Prison Boy

The sky is blue. There is a sea turtle, a butterfly, and a dragon head in the sky above me, the rest of the white, puffy clouds are blurry. The grass is long where I lay, smells of dirt and the bland Impala by my head. I couldn't tell you where I was, I don't remember or care. All that I care about is the sea turtle accidently morphing with the dragon head, which would suck.

"Get on the ground," the voice rings in my right ear, but I don't turn my head, instead I watch the slick movement of the clouds. "Gotta hearin' problem?"

Who? Four? Nope, he has ears like a hawk. Do hawks have ears? That cloud kinda looks like a hawk.

"Daryl be careful," the female voice says, but I am again too busy looking at the hawk shaped cloud. With that I hear the familiar sounds of struggle, and am now alert. From what I can see between the blades of long, green grass are feet. Feet with shoes. Tan leather boots. Once white tennis shoes. Combat boots.

"Are you kidding," says tan leather boots, I notice his ankles shift, probably to look at once white tennis shoes. Combat boots is on the ground, I see the familiar outline of jeans…_Four? _I want to scream. Instead, in my head I plan a sweet rescue mission. I'm gonna slide into the passenger seat, grab my gun that fell on the floor, and shoot tan leather boots and once white tennis shoes. My side suddenly is shot with a pain that stabs up my entire side. I whimper in pain, _Oh yeah, I have an arrow in my side. _

Tobias is now on his feet, moving swiftly on the ground. Once, twice, three strides, like a game of dodge ball. Then with a hard, hallow _thud _Four's body falls limp to the ground. I whimper softly, latching on to my mouth like they'll just forget I'm there. His eye lids are closed, his face that narrows at the chin calm and content. "Tobias," I cry out in a droned, muffled voice. There was no fire, there is no arrow in his skull, Four merely looks like he is sleeping.

I feel this strength arouse within me, a kind of promise. Like I _have _to move, I have to get up and fight for what is mine. With my hands, I dig my fingers into the moist dirt, pulling my body forward. I continue watching the feet, looking back at the colorless Tobias with fear, then strength, then beneath the coat of terror, bravery. "Oh no, not happenen' princess," says a voice above me. My head jerks back, tan leather boots is gone from his spot.

Fearfully, trembling I glance up and stare at him. First, all I see is a cross bow aimed at me, disgust sweeps over me like a blanket, that and more fear. The arrow is aimed in the center of my forehead. I grit my teeth like an animal ready to pounce. His eyes are dark teal, his face masked with dirt, his hair reddish brown and misplaced all over his head. The shirt he wears has the sleeves cut off, showing his muscles, dampened with sweat and blood.

"How old are yah?" He says with a husky voice. I blink at the man a couple of times plotting his death. "Asked you ah question, ain't gonna answer I'll give your boyfriend a matchin' one." I look back at Tobias, more meticulously now, watching short breaths beneath his shirt. I sigh in relief and look back at the man in the tan leather boots.

"Sixteen," I grit through my teeth. I was expecting a sudden happiness to sweep over his face, a sixteen year old girl, the end of the world… no one to come and arrest him. Instead his vicious appeal fades, he quickly flips over the cross bow, showing me the butt of the weapon, and thrusting it hard on the bridge of my nose. And into the darkness I fell, drifting off into a cover of nothingness.

My body sways back at forth under a vibration of an engine. I wake, my eyes blurry and heavy. My forehead clammy and hands moistened with sweat. I still feel the aching of the arrow, still smell the hot blood overflowing out of me. "HOLY SHIT," I cry out suddenly, aching, boiling, tear wrenching pain prickles my body, swimming through my blood stream like acid. I try and move but am quickly pushed down with a strong hand.

It is once-white tennis shoes. It is a woman with short black hair, her face dotted with sweat beads. Her eyes are the size of quarters and blue like Tobias'. _Four? _My head swings around to see him still unconscious on the seat. "Hey shhh, don't move you'll only make it worse." I listen, but can't find a reason why.

"Just let us go…_please," _the word is unfamiliar to me, old; my mouth goes dry from it. "I swear were leaving Georgia, just…" I feel tear swell in my eyes.

"Calm down Siren," I flinch, how does she know my name? Oh yeah, I quickly remember the blurry memory, I told the man called Daryl. "We are just taking you to our camp," I wince from both the pain and her words.

"No, no," I whisper in protest, my eyes large with fear. "Don't take us, please." Again, the word dries my mouth. "We… can…" I blink feeling bloated with blood, "can't. We…we…we…" I can't quite make out my words.

"Shhh," she says again, applying more pressure. "We have a doctor; Hershel will fix you right up." She smiled sweetly, "then we'll send you and the boy elsewhere." I nod even though I really didn't understand a word she said, all I heard was Hershel, whoever that is.

"How's it lookin' back there," a voice says, I know it is Daryl's but it seems different, calmer, relaxed.

"She'll live," the woman replies, "I'm Carol by the way," she says with another smile. I frown, she isn't Sophia…I wonder if she knew her.

I contiguously glance back at Four with cautious eyes. Checking to see him breathing, his eyes twitching beneath the lids. The leather seats bump along the road, sending pain through my side. We are shaded by trees suddenly and unfortunately on a dirt road. I moan in pain, smacking my head on the chair.

Watching out the window, I see a large, fenced in building. "Is this a… prison?" I frown as we drive, a small boy running to open the first gate, then we stop. I glance around at it; I have never been this close to a jail. The short boy holds a gun in his holster on his leg, he watches through the windows with a glare, his hat shading half his face. The second gate is opened by someone else, but his or her face is too blurry to see.

I press my bloody hands on the window, watching like we just pulled up to Disney World. Daryl swerves to a stop and turns to engine off. My heart thumping is giving me a head ache. My leg twitches and I get this urge to kick Four awake, but I don't, he looks so peaceful. Curled up with a nose bleed, his face paler than the grey seats.

"Welcome to our home Siren," says Daryl. "Don't kill anyone," he says with a chuckle, getting out of the car. I watch again from the window as Daryl raises a hand at someone. It must be the second guy I never saw, but it is a man with thick black hair, Korean characteristics all over his face, pale, jet black hair, squinted dark brown eyes. Plus, the only muscle he has is in his arms.

He glares into the window with curiosity and anger. Suddenly, with that look in his eyes, I feel out of place and alone, all over again. I shrivel in my seat, coiling into a ball. Carol gets out of the car, slamming the door behind her. I look to the body of Tobias, feeling enough energy to kick him awake. In a panic, my knee extends and my size eight converse leaves a print on his pants. He flinches, but doesn't wake up.

Letting out a frustrated grunt, I adjusted myself upward, feeling the blood smear on the seat. My head bobbles around and my eyes slowly close, everything once-again goes black, nothing, zip-zero, all alone in this dangerous place.

"You made a fine choice brining her here; she would have died out there within the next day." The voice is rough; full of wisdom and integrity, but it is tired and wary. The smell of soap fills my nose, and I swiftly jerk my body awake. Everywhere is bright again, morning has come and swayed into a sunny afternoon. The bed I am on is stiff, cold and a paper thin pillow elevates my head.

_Why are there bars on the window? _I am befuddled and confused with this thought, these strangers that surround me with needles and bottles labeled with fading stickers, like the peach cans. My eyes wide I skim everywhere like Tobias taught me, but my side hurts too much to think, too much to gasp in fear.

"I am Hershel," the voice says, I quickly trace it back to a man hunched over my cot. His face wrinkled and sagging down, his stomach bulging over his buttoned slacks. My stomach recoils when I look closer at his pants, one leg is completely missing from its knee. Two crutches lean against the wall.

My eyes jerk to a familiar face, Carol. She is outside of the bared door, watching each careful stroke of thread through my torso. I wince with the first poke.

"You only suffered minor injuries, you're lucky too, one more centimeter and your liver would have been destroyed." Hershel says, his blue eyes soft.

My eyes flicker back and forth between Carol and Hershel, until I finally croak, "where is Four?"

"Who," asks Hershel, looking to Carol.

"Tobias," I reply sharply.

"He is speaking with Rick," Carol answers in a stern voice. Rick, who the hell is Rick? She speaks as if I have been here, like these are my people. I give her an annoyed look. "Our leader," she finally says, she twists the necklace on her neck.

"Bout what," I snap at her, Hershel moves cautiously with the needles and black thread. She doesn't answer, thus I take it in my own hands. While Hershel works, I tilt my neck and scream, "Tobias where are you!?" When no one answers in the three seconds of silence, I scream again his name.

"Calm down Siren, I'm here," Four walks in view, his nose healed. I glare at him, who should have been at my side instead of gossiping with the all and powerful leader.

A man from behind swoops in. His black hair combed back, his eyes both demanding and protective. With one hand on his gun that is resting in a holster, he says, "we were discussing your release."


	6. Mother Dearest

What would my mother say? Half my shirt torn, painted red, and in prison. My throat tightens with that thought, dragging me back to reality.

"What to you mean Tobias," I ask, my eye brows pulled to a threatening frown. Hershel had given my the gesture to roll over, which I prompty ignored.

"Your getting the hell out of my prison, both of you." Rick's eyes are sheeted with power, but underneath is nothing but broken pieces. I give him a sympathetic look, but his blue eyes fall to the ground.

"Maybe we should talk about this Rick," Carol says with a beg in her voice. I shriveled, for along time the only person who ever showed me an ounce of love had been Tobias.

"It has already been decided, they leave." Rick only looks at the ground. His face cloaked with leadership, but marked with scars of pain.

"She is only a child," she looks back at me. The last time I was called 'a child' I was six, I sulked silently because when your shooting carnivores in the head, being called a child is an insult. Which reminds me, where is my gun? My head swivles around, jerking back and forth, drawing attention.

" Where is my gun, " I demand all three of them, Tobias, Carol, and Rick.

The question is ignored and they go back to arguing over me. "It doesn't matter, don't let your emotions cloud your judgement Carol." What is that supposed to mean? Carol's face shutters with a shallow chill.

" Your one to talk," she snaps, hitting her shoulder on his when she leaves. He glares as she stomps away. Confused with what had happened I turn to the doctor. He gestures me to turn again, and this time I do. The pain begins on my lower back, burning, like I'm pulling a muscle or enduring a cramp. Then as I rest back on my stomach it disappears. I feel Hershel's cold, wrinkled hand remove the cloth from my side, the cold air brushing it after.

"This is going to be painful," Hershel says, I feel is hand on the arrow, slowly wiggling it through my intestines. I groan, mashing my face into the thin pillow, biting down hard and tasting the dried sweat from God knows who, salty and stale in my mouth. The patter of foot steps come closer, I peer through my cracked eye lids and see Four crouched my my head. Relieved, I close my eyes again and wait. "One...two," but before the strike of the terrible three, a sharp, cringing, tug pulls through my stomach, releasing my body of pain as it pulls out. "There."

I breath heavily on the pillow, my mouth wet, my face even wetter. I pant, my face hidden in two inches of cotton. The pain hasn't stopped, only began tingling, numbing the area with prickles of more pain.

"Drink this," Hershel says when I lift my face. The liquid is dark green, in a chipped glass that had a foggy film over it. I stare in disbelief, suddenly remembering when I was little and refused cough syrup, same as now.

"What is in it," Tobias demands, holding my hand in a tight grip.

"Don't worry, it is only sleep medication mixed with analgesic," dude, you suck, the end of the world kinda interrupted my science class. "Reduces you pain," he adds when he saw my expression. I nod and take the glass from him with trembling hands. I knew what people were capable of, seen it, witnessed first hand, but was suddenly ready to drink a mysterious liquid given to me?

I stared down in the glass. Even though my education was cut short, I can still say that it smelled like dog shit. I glared at the grass colored drink, scrunching my nose and ready to refuse it like when I was young. However my mind changed with a hard, fast blow to my stomach. Pain wrapping itself around me, tightening around my torso. I gagged with the pain and ignored the dog crap smelling drink, plugging my nose and chugging the liquid. To say the least it tasted as it smelled.

"Oh my God, what the hell is that!?" I hand him the cup even though I'd rather chuck it on the wall, watch it shatter into millions of sharp edges. I cough, hoping the taste would pop out, it didn't.

"Just rest," Hershel answers with a smirk at the edge of his flat lips. As the words entered my head my eye lids became heavy, my bones weightless. I droned to the pillow, drowning out any bickering downstairs. I felt Tobias' hand brushing my greasy hair behind my ear, coaxing my to sleep. _But I don't want to sleep, _my mind argued suddenly. Nonetheless, it was too late.

_The ground is moist. The air quiet and stiff. Everything is dark. I'm outside, but where? Around me I feel things blowing against my arms, leaves perhaps? No. Not leaves, something else, something soft to the touch. Something warm, and comforting, but what could it be? I am stunned by this, still, stuck in one place while the warm, soft, comforting things touch me. _

_I close my eyes, hoping this would disappear into reality, because now I am frightened by the soft prickles on my arms, compelling the hairs to stick straight up. Then, with my eyes still closed, I slip. The ground beneath my falls, I fall. The soft things I realize are fingers, trying to latch on to me, their claws digging into me as I fall into more darkness. I scream, but nothing escapes my lips, like something stole my cry before anything could hear it. _

_I wrap my arms around me, feeling the cuts and scraps of the claws scaring up my arms. Crying without sound, I topple to the ground with a hard smack. My knees crack loudly, echoing in the space I fell into. My hands sting from the fall, like fire. "Hello," I say, but nothing replies. "Hello?" I cry again, clutching my bloody arms. _

_"Siren?" The voice is familiar, calming to me, I smile and sigh in relief. _

_"Mom," I say. The words warming me, the taste in my mouth sweet, like I've been sucking on a Jolly Rancher. "Mom," I say again trying to squint further into the darkness. "Mom I missed you, where have you been?" The words seem real, like the right words to use, but after I say them a sharp pain goes into my side. I moan, crying out until it is gone. _

_"Siren," she sings, her voice like a morning bird. _

_"Mom come out, please. I missed you." A tear streaks down my face, but I can't tell if it is a happy tear, or one filled with despair. I wipe it away anyways. _

_I see the silhouette of her. Thin, slightly taller than me, her curly black hair in perfect ringlets. I begin to step closer to her with a smile on my face, but my feet are stuck again. I look down, expecting to see my green converse, but past my ankles is nothing but a black fog. I tug again, my mother swaying closer to me. "Don't fret darling, I'm coming," she says. The words so familiar to me, another tear comes. _

_She steps into the sliver of light coming from the whole I fell into. Her face pale, sickly, with a sweat glow. Her blouse bright pink and jeans hugging her toned body. "Mom," I say, waiting to embrace her. _

_"Why did you do it Siren," she says, her voice sharp, no longer soft like a humming bird, but strict and angry. I frown, puzzled by her. "Why did you do it," she demands, her eyes staring down at me with hatred. Her forehead began to swell, blood trickled down the side of her face, her nose splotched with yellow and brown, the skin peeling from her face. I gasp, pulling away from her, but my feet are stuck. _

_"Mom, what are you talking about?" _

_"Kill me Siren! Why did you kill me?" Her eyes rage with a fire I have never seen, her arms reaching for me, but her left arm falls off, disappearing into the black fog. I shriek, contiguously pulling my feet, hoping they'd break free. A chip of her pale forehead falls to the ground, an eye seeming larger than the other, bobbling back and forth whenever she moves her head. _

_"Mom," I cry. A hole begins in the center of her forehead, indenting her face with it. I gasp for air, realizing there is none in this room. Tears wet my face like the blood wets her's. _

_"You killed me," she says, her voice cannibalistic and vicious, teeth sharpened to a point her bloody mouth. "Siren." She reaches again, her pale eyes yellowish and orange. She snarled, her four fingers reaching for me. _

_"No, no, please, I swear I didn't, I swear," I plead. _

_She doesn't reply, only gargles the blood in her mouth. _


	7. The Wise One

I coiled in to a ball, hugging my knees to my chest only to whimper as a shooting pain went through my back. My cell was lit by the window across the prison, barred by inch steal rods, and letting a square of the groggy morning in. Breathing like a dog on a hot sunny day, I wiped the tears from my face, mashing my head down on the pillow. I stared at the grey concrete walls, a color that would drive the craziest convict insane. The wall was stained with a splatter of dried blood, streaking along the middle.

I swallowed tightly, Tobias' arms weren't wrapped around me, his breath wasn't on the back of my neck, or light, hummed snores in my ear. Hershel and his crutches were gone as well, scent of them gone into the thick air of sweat and dirt.

I closed my hot eyes, wishing for a dreamless sleep. When I was a kid I used to hate those dreamless, meaningless sleeps, but now I crave them. The silence of the prison filled my head, making my ears ring, and my body ache. How easy would it be just to never wake up? Slip into a coma and die with the world, never another remorse about Siren Jaclyn Mathews.

That would be selfish of me, selfish of me towards everyone I still have. Even though the numbers range from zero to one. Indulging myself in those thoughts seemed selfish, self-serving in a way I can't control. I'm sure one of the them have given in to, wished a sleep that they never wake from, wasted away moments of time staring off like they didn't exist.

I shake my head… it is only an arrow. In a few days, I'll be able to move without the shooting pain cloaking my body. Tobias and I will leave this prison, continuing to move the hell out of Georgia. Nothing will stand in our way, not Freaks, not human beings; it is only the end of the world for Christ's sake.

I huddle up under the blanket, which only smells like dust, keeping my eyes closed while tears streak down. My mother, my father, my sisters, all gone with the world, hopefully together in a "better place" as they say, but I can't help but wish them here, trapped in this horrific world like me.

I sigh, wiping the tears from my face, only smearing the dirt around. Close by, I can hear sounds. First, they were frightening, sending me with a chilling tingle down my back, goosebumps popping up everywhere. The sound was both teeth gritting and warming at the same time, but I can't see why, something that is supposed to be irritable needs to stay irritable, not be both annoying and breathe taking at the same time.

I _know _what it is, but also refuse to be fooled by my mind telling me what it wants to hear. I get up. Clasping my wound with a hand as a wrenching, nails on chalk board pain braids in my body, swimming with a twist throughout me. I lean against the bar, panting, quickly regaining confidents to move again. Then, there it is, the sound again. A soft, strong, demanding hum from downstairs, echoing through the prison with a vibration.

I step from my cell, grabbing on the railing for support, looking out the window of the prison. It was a cloudy day outside, depressing the area with a grey, thick fog of an early morning. Breathing again, I skimmed the top bridge. Five cells, some with the barred doors opened, shirts and jeans thrown over the sides, bags by the door, making it obvious someone lived there.

The cell I had been staying in had chipped white paint on the door, the air was stale and tasted much like an attic. The blood stain on the wall smeared down in drips, the small metal toilet behind the bunk beds rusted. It wasn't much, but I was thankful Rick and his group hadn't locked us in, throwing away the key.

I began towards the steps, one hand always pressing against the white sloth Hershel had taped to me and the other on the cold, metal railing. I heard the sound again, twice before reaching the steps. Again five cells, lined up on one side, bags and cloths creeping out the door. They were all empty, the people's things scattered throughout the broad hall.

Slow and steady, I peered around the corner when I reached the end of the room. Behind the other bar door was a larger room with several tables around it. On the back wall was a rectangle shaped table with boxes and cans of food stacked, three people standing around it. A blonde girl that looked around my age, a woman with short brown hair only slightly older than the blonde one, and one I recognized as _Glenn. _

The noise again, louder, and I see it in the blonde's arms. Wrapped in a light pink blanket, all I see is the little face, red from crying. I keep walking, tip toeing through the cafeteria. Then they turn around, making me stop mid-center.

"You shouldn't be here," Glenn says, he wears a black button up shirt, the bulk of a gun tucked in the back of his pants.

"I'm sorry," I quickly say in a panic. I'm not really, why would I be? Am I a prisoner? I keep my eyes on the baby, her little eyes blinking back at the blonde girl with annoyance. She must be starving. "How… how old is she," I ask.

Glenn turns his head and looks at the other woman, who sits on the chair by her, cupping her face in her hands. "Only a few days," she says looking back up at me with tired eyes. "Her mother isn't here to feed her."

I frown, thinking on that. Where is the mother? Why isn't she here feeding her baby, coddling her child? I swallow tightly, I know the answer, and no one has to tell me. "I'm sorry," I look back at the baby, so small, so little… so _sad. _

The blonde turns, her face pale, dark circles under her bright eyes. She smiles weakly at me, her thin pink lips cracked. She walks past Glenn and the other woman, the baby in her hands. "Beth," she says, stopping next to me. We're the same height but her shoulders are narrower than mine, her face wasn't masked with what goes on out in the world, I could still see suffering inside the familiar eyes.

"Siren," I reply, the baby's eyes slowly came down, heaver and heaver every time.

Beth leans in, her lips to my ear, "don't get too comfortable Siren," she whispers, raspy and weak. What? I want to ask, but she is already going towards the door that leads outside. What could she mean by that? Four and I are leaving anyways, goodbye Georgia, hello anywhere else. I glare at her as she walks, deciding to follow.

The metal door latches behind me in clanking to a stop. Beth hands the ball of blanket to Daryl, whose leaned against the door frame. I follow her as she goes down the steps, turning to look at Daryl, the same man who shot me, who stuffed me into a car, holding a freaking baby. Carol is next to him, admiring the baby.

Beth stops at Hershel hunched over his crutches, smiles and kisses him lightly on his cheek. "How are the stitches holding," Hershel asks as his blue eyes lift and see me.

"The pain is still there, but the stitches are intact," I answer. "Thank you by the way, I know you didn't have to waste your supplies on me." He nods, and turns to Beth again.

The short boy from yesterday walks up when Glenn and the other woman come from the cafeteria. I find myself looking for Rick in all this. Where is he while his people are out? Guarding the fence? I look over at the fence, nothing. Four comes from behind the boy, a scowl on his face when he sees me.

"Why aren't you in bed," he asks, frowning. "Resting?"

"Its morning," I say, kicking my shoe towards the ground. I couldn't bring myself to think about the dream.

"How do you feel?"

"Fine," I reply, a pain going down my back.

"Don't be modest Siren," he says, his hand grabbing mine.

"Oh you know," I shrug, "I feel like I got shot with an arrow yesterday." I glare over at the fence, seeing two guys in blue jumpsuits walking around. "Who are they?"

He looks where I pointed my head. "Oscar and Axel, prisoners, or I guess former prisoners now."

I nod my head looking back towards everyone.

"Maggie and I will take the girl and her boyfriend back to their car," Glenn told Hershel in a matter-of-fact voice. It took me longer than I would have thought to realize he was talking about _us. _

"She'll rip the stitches," argued Hershel, "give her one more day." Four's hand tightened on mine.

"We don't need any more people," Glenn retorted.

"You don't decide that Glenn, that is Rick's call."

Glenn gestures with his hands around the prison, "and where is he?" He crosses his arm, "we're going on a run anyways to get formula, it'll just save time to drop them off at their car and come back."

"I think he's right dad, we can just get in and out," adds Maggie, her hands on her hips, her black cotton t-shirt baggy like mine and slipping off the shoulder.

Defeated, Hershel hops away with an irritated face, Beth following.

"We're so screwed," I hear whispered under Four's breathe. Yup, so freaking screwed.


	8. The Big Bad Wolf

Four and I were put in a red Suburban that smelt like stale bread and tasted like rusted metal. I hadn't seen Rick since yesterday, wherever he was he must be doing something important.

"We're taking you to your car and you can leave after we leave with the formula," says Maggie importantly in the Suburban while Glenn reloads his gun inside the prison. She turns to us with two black cloths, "you'll have to wear these." I take mine with a careful hand; Tobias only glares at it with solemn eyes. "It isn't a long drive," she adds, gesturing Four to take it. She turns after he finally takes it.

"How can we be sure you're not taking us out to put a bullet in our heads," I ask, handing my blind fold to Four to help me tie it.

"You can't," she says simply before it all goes black.

The car door slams, I feel the chair where my knees press against shift side to side. My hand swims around the seat, searching for Tobias' hand. It finds mine and I am comforted by it quickly. "Did you ever get the shot gun from Oscar," Glenn asks. I know who Oscar is, one out of the two prisoners who were on patrol, I relax a bit in the chair.

"Never did, want me to?"

"No it's fine, it is just a formula run," replied Glenn, my side aches, quickly throwing me off guard. The Suburban hums and creaks forward, slow, like it has been parked for a long time. Then it went across the uneven field. I could just make out the sound of the gate being opened, then closed behind us, probably either Oscar or Axel.

I tried to picture where we were going, the thick green trees, the empty road, the sun that decided to come out a few hours earlier. The red Suburban going down the smooth concrete, the engine humming along, I leaned against the door, Four's hand still in mine. The car creaks when the break is hit, jolting forward swiftly before coming to a complete stop.

"You can take the folds off," says Maggie, a doors open and slams behind them. My fingers dig underneath the cloth, pulling it off my head and tossing it to the seat between Four and I. We are where I got shot at, four buildings making up a little plaza in the middle of nowhere, the red truck still firmly inside the gas station.

Four looked behind us at the Impala, the passenger side still opened, some leaves had fallen on top of the hood. Glenn taps my window with the head of his gun, putting his hands on his hips and waiting for me to get out. I let go of Tobias' hand, pressing against the door with my body until it swung open.

My feet fell to the ground, my side shooting a pain up my back as expected. Hershel had given me another bottle of that horrid green stuff in an old, crinkled water bottle that I had in my bag. Glenn grabbed my shoulder, lightly guiding me forward to leave enough room for Tobias to squeeze out.

"How is this going to go," I ask for the second time, pulling the large t-shirt into a knot at the end, then pulling up my thick, reddish brown hair to swing at the base of my neck.

Four glided out of the car, slamming the door behind him. "They're sending us to hell and not looking back," Tobias said grimly, I flashed a disgusted look to myself. How could he be acting like this? After how they treated me, brought me to their camp and stitched me up? "Isn't that right?"

Glenn looked at me, holstering his gun and pulling out a crumbled up paper. "Hershel said you should take some pain pills from inside, and for the record," Glenn got closer to Four's face, eye to eye, "we didn't have to take your girl in, fix her up like that, could have just thrown you out to the walkers."

The what? Walkers? I guess we can't all call them Freaks. I kick my feet on the ground, hiding my face because I know Glenn is right on this one. I see Four's jaw lock, his teeth grit in disgust, and Glenn backs away, turning with an irritated expression.

"Glenn," Maggie whispers with a worried face, grabbing his hand as he stomps past. I follow behind them, Four three feet behind me. I stuff my hands down in my blood stain jeans, avoiding the corpses and stepping into the dark store.

The one room store smells like expired fish, blood smeared in a hand print on the white shelves. The sun shines through the one large rectangle cracked window at the front of the store. "Don't get too far," Glenn says to me, tearing the paper in half and handing me the other piece. "Medical supplies are that way," he points towards the end of the store.

"Thanks," I say quiet enough that Four doesn't hear. He nods and looks behind me at Tobias before turning back towards Maggie.

"Down that way," I say to Tobias, who skims the paper with a frown. He hands it back and picks up a tipped over red basket.

"I need to get some food for the road," he said looking at the narrow path ways and little food on the shelves. I nod, he turns away and goes down the caned section.

I turn, alone in the light of the sun. I pick up a basket while going towards the medical supplies. A Freak body decapitated down one corridor, the blood streaked down the tiled floor. I walk past it, slipping into a hallway.

Empty bottles, spilt pills, faded labels, I sighed looking down at the paper. His hand writing is shaky, wobbly and pointed. It reminds me of my uncle Riggs, who died alcohol poisoning at thirty-five. I ignored it and kept looking for pills.

I hummed the names as I guessed what the label said before. I shook a bottle, listened for the rattle of pain killers and tossed them in the basket. "Need any help," a voice asks coming from the shadows. It was Maggie, her basket almost full of random things.

I looked back down at the list, squinting at the labels. "I have no idea what it is supposed to look like," I admitted. She took the list from my hands, reading carefully then picking up a bottle.

"Here you go," she placed it in the basket and reached for another.

"Thanks again for," I gestured towards the bandage. She glared down at it, asking with her hands to take a look. "Oh yeah…sure," I say in a panic, lifting my shirt. She tears the tape to look at the stitches.

"It's a little red but the stitches held," she said placing the swath back on my side with a pat. "Make sure to put some disinfectant on," she stuck a tube of something in the basket. I weakly smiled, suddenly feeling a tight lump in my throat. My eyes felt hot, my throat stung.

"Maggie," Glenn called in a panic.

"Here," she waved her hands and walked past me.

"Time to go," he said, he held a can of formula with a fulfilled smirk, putting it in the red basket. "Hey get outside," Glenn orders. I come out with my basket, my palms feeling sweaty. Four came from the snacks shelve, his basket loaded with boxes of Twinkies and Zebra Cakes.

I smiled, even though I feel like sobbing into a pillow. I feel so emotionally drained already, the weight of everything coming down on me. I grab his open hand and follow Maggie out the door, Glenn holds it open for us.

"Your bags are in the back of the Suburban, along with your guns. I put them out here and we'll leave, don't follow us," Glenn warns, holding our black bags with two fingers. He sets them down on the wall of the store.

"Well, well, well," a voice says, I jump five feet from my skin. The man stands, his face with a wicked grin, and twisted with pleasure. One of his arms has a sharp, jagged blade where his hand is supposed to be. Glenn sets the basket down on the concrete sidewalk, his hand slowly going to his gun.

"_Merle_?"


	9. Sing Along With Merle

**I got this review from antivis, who is a guest who wrote 'what kind of dumb name is siren stop trying to be unique' and all I have to say to that is if you guys have problems with something as stupid as a character name, stop freaking reading my story. What is the point of giving negative reviews if we're all here to be unique in our own ways? **

**Other than that thanks for reading. And hope you enjoy. **

Three things I know.

Glenn will draw his gun.  
Maggie is petrified beside me.  
Merle will stop at nothing to find his brother.

What can I do? My brain is only focused on those three things, my mind spinning with unreadable questions and damaged answers. I see Maggie's gun bulking out from the back of her pants, the handle an easy grab if I were closer. I'm not. Not without Merle seeing the entire thing, probably stabbing his hand-sword-knife-thingy in my stomach.

I look to Glenn, his hand still edging for the gun while he stalls with babbled, puzzled words.

"I want my brother," Merle says for the second time. His voice hoarse, scratchy, yet within endurance that would make the toughest man quiver in fear. Merle speaks as if the world is listening, his head held high in pride, he must think he is pretty bad ass.

One thing I learned over the year.

A bullet can stop any bad ass.

I look again to Maggie's gun, latching on to Four's hand with a tight grip. Nothing was going to tear us apart.

"Daryl," Merle says. My body shakes, _Daryl? He is nothing like Merle. _Even though Daryl did shoot me in the side, I felt bad for Daryl, he is stuck with him.

"Okay we'll bring him to you," Glenn suggests, his face still pale.

"Take me to him," Merle orders. I _know _Glenn would never do such a thing, and now I know I can't let that happen. I make a promise to myself then and there, while Merle has his gun out, Maggie is fearful and Tobias ready, _I will not let Merle go to the prison. _Not when there is a little baby there, not when they are a slim family, just getting over the loss of one of their own.

"No," replies Glenn, his hand just inches away.

Merle lifts his gun, the sound bangs in the air, cracking in my ears, I pry my hands from my head and look at the broken glass of the window. I don't have time to take in that Merle missed Maggie's head by an inch because I'm being pulled down.

"Stay down," she whispers roughly at me. Glenn as drown his weapon, the second loud bang rippling through the air. I press my back against the trunk, edgy and trying to summon the slyness I had when I was little, sneaking down the stairs ready to capture the proof Santa Claus was a hoax.

Glenn's body smacks against the back of the truck, sliding down with us. "You guys okay," he asks with a crazy look in his dark brown eyes. His hair is messily swooped back, tuffs falling on his forehead. He hands Four a gun, a black nine millimeter, _my black nine millimeter_, I know from the tent in the handle. I glare for a second, but Merle's voice pulled me out of the phase.

"You can't run," he chuckled, "can't hide." My heart thumped against my chest. No gun. How am I supposed to defend myself without a gun? I'm in panic mode, getting clumsy. Glenn points the gun behind him, firing the trigger like it's as easy as breathing. Four stands up, aiming the gun at Merle from the window, firing.

I breathe solemnly, closing my eyes. _Please be a dream. Please be a dream. _"Siren," Four whispers at me, I open my eyes, cursing under my breath. "Stay down." Okay, you stay down to, we can both stay down, hell, let's all stay down! Tobias didn't. Glenn didn't. They bounced from their crouch and ran out. Maggie following. Leaving me…alone behind a truck while guns were fired.

Shit. Shit. Shit. My head jerks back and forth, looking right left, this way, that way. Sweat dribbles from my forehead. _Breathe Siren, breathe. _I take my advice, panting for the hot air. "No, no, no," Merle sings, like scowling a toddler, shooting at the ground, barely missing Four's feet. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I look on the ground. A metal bar, hollowed and three feet long sits on the ground. Just sitting there. I grab in, clutching it hard in my hands. _Thud. _I drop the metal rod with a ting, jerking my head towards the action. Four is on the road, a blood streak going down his nose.

I pick up the rod again, crawling fast like a spider to the side of the car. Tobias is limp, knocked out. I sigh in relief, Maggie's feet moving quickly back, tripping over me. "I'm sorry," I say in a panic. She ignores me, getting to her feet again with a shuffle.

"Glenn," she calls out, turning to the back of the Suburban. I see Glenn, he isn't with Maggie. His head rests neatly on the pavement like Four's, his face bleeding and swollen.

"Why hello," I hear behind me. Maggie screams, but Merle took care of that by knocking her out like the rest of them. My knuckles burn from holding the rod. Silence fills the thick air. "Come out little one," he sings like this is a game of hide and seek. His feet patter on the ground like hale on the roof. _Click, click, click. _

I am up on my feet, pouncing like an animal. I can't see him, only the bodies in his path. I duck down, moving my feet swiftly on the road. Around the Suburban, past Maggie, I crouch down when I see Glenn, checking his pulse which still races.

"Hello little tyke," he says, I turn, seeing his wicked smile on his thin lips. Instinctually I swing, like a bat with the ball. "Eh, eh, eh," he hums, his hand blocking the metal rod from his face. Yanking it free from my hands he tosses it to the ground. "Now, help me put this three in the car or I'll blow you fuckin' brains out."


	10. You're In Good Hand

You don't know fear until you've stared an angry, one-armed, red neck in the eyes. Merle's face is solid, his eyes indestructible, the small fuzz balls of brown hair are even scary when patented down with the sweat created to shove bodies into a car. Merle cursed made up insults when realizing the Suburban's engine had been shot in the cross-firing earlier, so we took the Impala.

Maggie was first, Merle pointed a gun barrel to the back of my skull, telling me to search her body for weapons. I came up with three knives, one in her back pocket, one in her front pocket, and a toothed hunting knife tucked in her boots. He made me tie her up with rope he just happened to carry with him, then we repeated the process with Glenn and Tobias.

"Turn around," he said shallowly with his southern drawl after the last heavy body had been thrown in the back seat of the Impala.

"Why?" I shrink when I see his face, demanding and furious. I turn, I've been turned from him before, to search through their pockets, but now it's different. A line of hot, burning sweat goes along the crevasse of my back. His hand pats me down, hard and strong. His sharp blade scraps my peach fuzz off my arm, trimming it like a mower does grass.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here," Merle pulls the bottom of my jeans up, yanking them to my calf. I had forgotten about the knife I had duck tapped to the back of my pants. He rips it angrily off, my skin reddening instantly. I wince quietly.

"I can't tell you were their camp is," I say matter-of-factly, turning to watch him tuck my knife into his pants.

"Oh yes Barbie I know," he says with a smirk he always seems to have on him. I frown, "if I thought you knew this would be a different conversation." He must have listened in, must have known Glenn and Maggie were abandoning us. How long was he watching? I feel violated and disturbed, looking around quickly as if someone else was going to pop out from the alley way.

"Where are you taking us," I demand proudly.

His lips curve around his face, "and why would I tell you that sweetheart?" I cringe with his 'sweetheart' remark, disgusted by him. "I can't exactly tie yah up myself," he holds up the blade, "so if you move…."

"You'll blow my brains out," I finish, he reminds me every freaken five minutes and I don't doubt it. He props open the front seat, holding up his blade hand high. I ease in, the door slamming as soon as I sit, my foot just barely made it from being crushed.

I could jump in the front seat, start the engine. _Red wire, blue wire. _Run this bastard Merle up into little bit sized pieces. I _could, _but I won't. Merle isn't slow on his feet, his eyes glued on to me like a child to a puppy, except more cynical. The front door opens, ending the only plan I had.

"Try anything Barbie I'll blow _your _brains out and the Ken doll in the back." I shrink in my seat, Four would be angry he was called a Ken doll, but I can kind of see the resemblance. _Sorry Tobias, _I say in my head, not daring to move my head around to peek at Four.

The engine starts, and the beginning to a journey to God knows where is afoot.

The ride is silent, and this time there isn't the wailing of a baby to save me from this silence. _The baby. _I had almost forgotten about Little Ass Kicker, named by bastard Merle's brother. I can't see the resemblance. Merle is so…Merle, and Daryl is, well the one who shot me, but also a warrior with wings and a dirty, glowing halo.

As we keep driving, I see the outlining of a body hung up from a tree. A Freak, but then several hanging Freaks come into view, decapitated, stabbed onto the sign post. My stomach lurched forward and I can't help but look at the red neck with hatred.

I sink further into my seat, hoping if I sink far enough, I'll just become the seat. Child's thoughts. I sigh, I have no plan, no tactic once we get to this 'Merletopia'. I'm hoping Daryl will show up and clear this mess up for us, but this is the zombie apocalypse, no one 'clears this mess up' anymore, you gotta problem with someone, you shoot em' in the face.

"So where are we going," I ask again trying to make out places and signs in the cracked window. _Who am I kidding, I'm not from Georgia. _

"Woodbury," he answers turning on a parking lot with cars scattered all around and Freak bodies massacred on the pavement, the blood splattered by their heads. A wall of large tires stack up in the front, three men with large guns watching over. _What the hell is this? _

My side aches instantly, my heart punching my chest, my breathe short. I can't do this now. I can't snap now. I need to keep it together. One of the men point to gun at us, one squeeze and I'm dead, my blood splattered against the seat, the window glass shattered against the rest of my body. Merle raises his blade, like it has some kind of key code on it, opening The Gates of Woodbury.

It works. The guy signals the others and the gate is raised. I don't know what to expect, more Freaks hung on tree branches? Men with guns? My chest aches like my side from the hits my heart has been throwing.

Merle inches forward. Green grass, unbroken windows, people walking around with smiles on their faces and clean cloths. Two girls in big tails come running across the road, laughing and giggling. _Are they drugged? _I look back at Merle, he doesn't look drugged, yet again, he could be seeing unicorns and rainbows right about now.

This town seems brighter for some reason, not just the sun but everything around it. Flowers are grown beside houses, bikes are rode around, people carry food in their hands, and it just goes on and on, all sunshine and butterflies.

Merle turns right, pulling up to the back of a large building, metal sheets patching up holes in the walls. He gets out, lifting the large opening like a garage door. Merle smashes back in the seat, driving into the room. He gets out again, closing the door, the darkness consumes me, except for the dinky little yellow light hanging from a wire. _Electricity…._

Lost in the yellow light, I hardly notice Merle open the side door, Glenn slowly toppling out. He taps on my window, making me jump five feet from my skin. I get out, helping Merle with Glenn's body, dragging him along the hallway with few windows and two more dangling lights. "Stop," he orders. I do, we stopped at a door. Merle opens it, it is only an empty room filled with nothing but a light fixture, a table, and a chair.

Now. Here is my chance. You can do this Siren. I drop Glenn's shoulders, he lands with a thud on the ground. Then I start running down the long hall, running, running. I grab a board of wood that is propped up on the wall. Turning and swinging with the might of an elephant across Merle's torso.

"Uff," he says, clutching his stomach. I drop the board turning. Instead of running down the hall, I run into a solid, muscular tall figure, blocking me like a wall. My heart is explosive, my brain throbs, sweat beads from my head. The man's arms coil around my body like chicken wire.

"Shhh," he soothes. I see his face, strongly built and tight, his eyes dark blue, his lips pink and thick, his hair is dark brown with patches of silvery gray. I want to scream, but it is like the dream, something stole my voice before anything could hear it. He wears a navy blue shirt with a vest, his face stern yet as he sooths me, calming.

"Let go," I struggle, staring into his eyes as they demand me to kneel before him. Tears swell in my eyes as his grip tightened, his nails digging into my flesh. My hands don't know what to do besides push against his hard stomach, like I'm punching him and each punch makes a shallow, echoing sound.

"Real fighter ain't she," says Merle shuffling from the ground. The way he just bounced up like that after I used all my strength to swing the board irritates me.

"What is all this," the man says, his voice as hallow and as echoing as the punching sounds on his chest. He refers to the body of Glenn in the hallway. He holds on to me like I'm nothing but a wiggly pole in the ground, his hold sturdy.

"They know my brother, there in his group," he says, "I gotta know where he is." The man nods, as if that takes care of this whole situation. _Merle answers to him. _I make note of it, he must be important.

"Do you need this one," he says, shifting me around like a rattle.

"What you need her for," he asks. Yeah what do you need her for? What you need _me _for? Picking up your dry cleaning?

"Were just gonna have a little…chat," he says, within his voice I know it isn't just going to be '_a little chat'. _Merle nods, turning and dragging Glenn's body into the room. _Third room down, _I say in my head, _I'm going to save you Glenn. _The man holds me out, looking at me with beady little eyes. "How old are you?"

Why does everyone ask that? How old are _you? _He rattles me around again, like he is trying to shake the answer out of my head. "Sixteen," I squeak, my eyes twirling around the room. "Why?"

"Your name?"

He isn't going to answer my question. His blue eyes give me a quick warning glare, and I don't want to find out what would happen if I ignored it. "Tell me yours first," I say, feeling the adrenaline from before wearing thin.

He sighs, "The Governor."

"Siren," I say, secretly wishing I had an awesome nickname to, but that didn't matter, know I want to know why he isn't letting me _go. _


	11. Ain't No Rest For The Weak Ones

After I gave a weak little whimper, The Governor released me, his hands just inches from my arms. Once he knew I wasn't going to run he gestured me to follow him. I look back down the hall, by now Merle had all three of them in rooms. Glenn. Maggie. _Tobias. _I know I can't run from him, Merle would catch me without hesitation, giving me back to this man that could literally do anything to me.

I walk slow, my feet aching, my lungs filled with the dusty air of the hallway. "This is no way to treat a guest," The Governor says, halfway down the hall, I can see an opening where the hallway branches off into a large room, filled with windows letting in the bright sunlight. Am I a guest? Is that what you call kidnapping me?

Something about this man sends tremors down my back. Is it his controlling eyes? His strongly build body that could crush me in zero seconds? "A guest," I say in a snappy tone, more bitchy than I would have hoped, "this is what you call hospitality?" The Governor stops, turning with a smile, simple and calm, unlike Merle's. I gulp, _shut up Siren, shut up. _

"I apologize for Merle's behavior, but you were the people who left him on the roof to cut off his own hand," he says shallowly.

I shake my head, shocked. _That is how he lost his hand? They left him…? _No, Rick wouldn't just do that, Daryl wouldn't, there must be a reason. "They aren't my people," comes out of my mouth without permission.

He gives me a look, shocked but no change of mind has occurred, whatever he wants with me has nothing to do who my people are. "Well then," he says putting his hands on his waist, "what am I going to do with you." His eyes skim my body.

Let me go! Let all of us out of this place! My arms cross around my chest as his eyes keep skimming. "Excuse me, Mr. Governor," I say with air quotations over 'governor', "but I am not _yours _deal with, neither are any of those people your man just kidnapped." _Shut up! What is wrong with you? This is his turf! _

"Siren is it?" He frowns, putting his finger tips on the brim of his lips, "when you're in my town, with my people, your my business, my responsibility, mine." A shiver goes down my spine. I'm _his_ to do whatever it is he does to sixteen year old girls. I wish Tobias was here to protect me, a shield against this man who was nearly three times my size. "Now come." I obey, my eyes drifting down to my green shoes kicking the wood flooring.

The Governor leads me to the room, painted white with several large windows overlooking the town. The glass on the window has intercut designs shadowed on the floor. A woman with blonde wavy hair and a striped baggy shirt smiles at the Governor, then at me. She walks past us into another room with a white door. I wanted to scream at her 'save me' but what good would it do? She sips the same crazy juice The Governor does.

He turns back, probably to make sure I am still there, then points up the stairs. I give him a 'good luck with making me go up there,' look but his warning glare makes me skip happily up the creaking steps.

Now I'm alone, completely alone with him. Upstairs is different from downstairs, the walls upstairs are boarded, picture frames with paintings hanged, the window blinds were closed.

"Into my office," he says opening a brown, large door with a twisty door knob. Of course, this guy would have an office, I guess the nickname The Mayor didn't sound cool enough. I step in hesitant, what does a leader of a hundred or so people office look like? Like the ride over, with the Freaks bounded by barbed wire to street posts?

Instead, it is just a desk, some pictures, some chairs, a window, fancy liquor in a glass bottle, like outside the tire fence, the world hasn't gone to shit. He comes in, clicking the door closed behind him. He walks past me, pulling out the chair out for me. Then looks at me expectantly.

"Sit," he orders sternly after realizing I wasn't going to listen. I go over, my body shaky and numb. My head is light, my stomach nauseous, I think I might have ripped the stitches too, earlier when Merle said to put them in the back. I sit on the cushion, the leather cold on my body.

He walks over to the desk, pouring a glass of what smells like Whiskey, maybe Bourbon, into a round glass. The Governor sits in his seat behind the desk, setting the glass with a _clink _on the table after taking a sip. His eyes flicker to me.

"You've seen it," he says, but I can't tell if it is a question, "the outside?" I nod, confused by him. "And you've seen my town… the people?" I remember the girls on the bikes briefly. "Would you the boy like to stay?" _Me and Tobias…stay? _I think about it, the people blinded and totally ignorant of the outside. What I wouldn't do to be ignorant….

"What do you mean stay," I ask, leaning back into the chair.

"There doesn't have to be blood shed anymore then there already has, you've seen it out there, people are dying." Dead. Not dying, dead. "If you can tell me where their group is, I can have Merle release them and get his brother back to him, and you and the boy can stay… if you wish."

I am sad suddenly, I don't really know _where _the prison is, and seeing the electricity and _clean _people makes my stomach knot up. Then I see his face again, wicked hiding as tranquility. "I'm sorry," I say as simple as possible, "I can't, I don't know where it is." It isn't completely true, I saw the outlining of several mile signs through the stitching of the blind fold, and I know it is fourteen miles from the plaza of buildings.

His face is solemn, his eyes cold. He inhales deeply through his nose, looking out the window with the shades slightly opened, and his hand comes crashing down on the table. _Slam! _I jump ten feet out of my skin, my bones rattled around. His eyes were vicious and hungry for information I couldn't give him. "You lying! I can see it in your eyes! Tell me!"

No, no please I'm not. My heart races, the sweat starting to build up again. Is it that obvious? "No, I really don't, look," I pull up my shirt and show him the stitches, a trickle of blood oozing out, hot and stick down my side, "I was only there to get patched up, I don't know where it is." My face feels hot under his burning eyes.

"I don't believe you," he says, "and for that your friends will pay dearly."

My heart stops, my breathe is short, my head is hot. I can't think. What does he mean? What can I do? My brain throbs. "What do you mean," I whisper. He stands up, his face hardened, he walks over to me. I flinch, my entire body coiling into a ball on the chair, tucking my knees to my chest.

His strong hands pry me apart, then latch on to me once I'm on my feet again. I don't know what to do. My head is too fogged by meaningless nonsense to think. I can't kick him in the groin, his hold is too strong, like rocks have grabbed on to me.

"Let me go," I cry out, tears streaming down the sides of my face. I kick my legs, hitting everything in my path. I knock one of the pictures off his desk, it shatters on the floor. I can see three people through the blurry wall of tears in my eyes. Him, a woman, and a girl with dark brown wavy hair.

The Governor looks down at it, than at me. His eyes are furious, his face wicked and twisted with anger, he throws me into the edge of his desk. I scream in pain, _right in the wound, _crumbling to the floor. My hair falls loose, his hands scoop me up on my feet again, I'm a rag doll in his arms. Tears blind me, but I know his eyes are staring deep into mine.

"Let me go," I sob again, my side wrenching in agony, twisting with pain. My head isn't light anymore, instead its heavy, weighing me down with it.

"You are so weak and pathetic it sickens me," he says through the fangs he calls teeth. "But after you watch your friends day one by one you'll strengthen inside, making me the perfect little soldier." Vomit spurts from my mouth on to the floor, the vile stench filling his office. He looks down at his shoes in disgust, then with all his strength throws me across the room.

I smack across the wall, blood trickling out of my mouth. "Stop," I cry out, my bones shaking with twinge. "Please," I plead. He picks me from the floor, dragging my feet along the wood panels. I sob loudly until The Governor turns around.

"Damn it, if you don't shut your mouth the boy will die first," I close my blood filled mouth, tears still erupting from my eyes. My body shakes from crying, but I can't make any noise as he brings me down the hall, the lights dangling from the ceiling. He stops at the second door. _Tobias' door. _I close my eyes, praying to God that he isn't going to kill him, _not now, please not now. _The door opens, I see a body coiled in a ball in the back, and The Governor kicks me inside, I land on my face, the skin scrapping back on my chin.

The door slammed behind him. Leaving me, and Tobias. I kept my face on the ground, sobbing as loud as I could.


	12. The Bloody Beats of A Heat

"Siren," I hear in a hushed voice in my ear. "Siren," he said again, his arms slowly going around me. I clamped my hands over my face as he propped me up on his lap. His soft fingers gently pushing back my hair.

My face felt swollen from the hot tears, the taste of blood and vomit still in my mouth. I couldn't show him this, my weakness that apparently makes people sick. But hey at least once I watch everyone die, I'll be a psychopathic maniac. I sank into his chest as his arms coiled around me.

"Look at me," his voice cracked. His fingers tracing my fingertips clasped to my face, it burned on my skin but I didn't want him to stop. This was his way of comforting me.

My heart still pounded, my brain numb, and as I gasp for air, I keep sobbing into my dirty hands. I shook my head quickly, burrowing into his chest. He smelt like he always did, dirt and lemon zest and I craved for it.

"Come on Siren," his voice sang, his voice as calm and soothing as I have ever heard it. I shook with tears, quickly smothering them away. Lifting my head, I let my hands fall to my lap. His eyes skimmed my face with a frown, then angered instantly.

"Is it… that bad," I said between shivers. Four's forehead had a streak of dried blood over a blossoming purple bruise, his hair sodden with more blood.

"Did that bastard do this to you," he asked harshly, still stroking back messy hair.

Merle? He was like a sheep compared to the big bad wolf. The Governor's face still fogs my head, his face as I lied, and the satisfactory as I slammed into the desk. I shake my head looking down from his eyes. "No… it wasn't Merle. It was the leader," I look up into his eyes, "it was The Governor."

He frowns, "I'm going to get us out of here."

I shake my head, "don't make promises you can't keep Four."

"But I do, I _promise_ you Siren."

"How? This place is guarded by three men with heavy artillery, even if we did make it past Merle we'd still have to get through the wall!"

"Shit Siren be quiet!" He points towards the other wall, and while I stay silent, I can hear muffled screams on the other side. My stomach knotted up again, _Glenn. _"How do you know that?"

I had forgotten that he was unconscious the entire ride over. I gulped, the swallow going down my burning throat, the skin leather tight. "I wasn't unconscious when we came here."

"What?" He says almost offended.

"Merle didn't knock me out, he needed help haling your heavy ass into the car," I say quoting Merle.

"You weren't unconscious? Siren why didn't you run?"

"And leave you," I say in a clear voice.

His eyes harden, "yes Siren! If it comes down to it, die or leave me, leave me!" How could he say this? Did the last year mean nothing to him?

I frown, "would you leave me?"

He looks down at the ground, and solemnly whispers, "I could never _leave _you behind."

"Then what makes you think I can?"

Tobias' face flashes to mine, cold and hollow, "because _your _my only weakness Sirenity!" I flinch at the sound of my full name, its foreign to me, old like the word 'please.'

I shudder, coiling into a ball on his lap. "I love you, but sometimes you're a bastard."

He chuckles, his hand stroking the hair behind my ear, "I love you to." We become silent, listening to the sounds of Glenn getting pummeled to the ground, and somewhere in between the screams, my eyes became heavy, my body limp.

_The tree branches out, clawing the sky with the talons. The world is dark all around. The air cold and dry. There is only this tree, twisted and wicked in its own ways. But it is only a tree. _

_How can a tree be evil? I step closer to the tree, the ground is thin, like if I make the wrong step I'll fall right down to hell. Hanging from the curved branches is the shadow of a man, a human being dangled from a tree. I gasp for the dry air that burns my lungs as it goes down. _

"_Tobias?" I say loudly at the figure. It can't be Tobias, he isn't dead. But I call again, "Tobias." The body sways in the still air. I step closer, onto a root of the snarled tree. I look at the body, but now there are several, all dangled from the branches. "Hey!" _

_One spins around, its head turned completely backwards from its body. I fall on my back on the ground. I know who this one is, it's my sister, her blonde hair dyed red with blood. The blood trickles from her eyes like tears. "You did this to me," she says, her eyes staring down at me, instead of the warm brown that I remember them as, there black, completely darkened like a demon. _

_Then a sound ripples through the air, the sound of all of them turning their heads from their bodied. Fourteen in all. Black eyes stare down at me with a fiery burn. "You did this to us," they say all together like a nursery rhyme. "It is your fault." _

"_No, no, no," I cry out, "I never did anything," I say. _

"_It will always be your fault, everyone who loves you dies," their voices are husky and rough, and with the silence filling the air, the bodies fall from the branches, making the ground too heavy, and we fall, down deeper and deeper, until there is nothing left of us. _

"You can't take her!" I feel strong arms around my stomach, prying me from Four's grip. I open my eyes, which were crusted with dry tears. "Siren!" I can see Four on his feet, his arms out and running towards me.

I look up, _The Governor. _I scream as loud as my dry throat could possibly make. My feet drag away from the warm, protected spot where Four and I laid. "Let me go," I flail my body out of his grip. "You can't take me," I say loudly, my throat on fire from the scream.

His arms grab a hold of me again, gripping me with all his strength. By now Four was three feet from us, still running forward. A bang echoed through my brain. My heart stopped beating and all I could hear was the sound of Four's body hitting the floor. I look up, my body stiff, my heart cold, The Governor holsters his gun.

I look back, Four is there, dead. No light breathing, no warmth left, the essence of him gone into the thin air. My entire body shuddered with a quake of despair, saddened with the echoing bang that stopped his heart. There was nothing now, only the body of the boy I loved. The Governor started to walk further from the body, the blood starting to come out of the bullet hole in his head, his blue eyes still open with the image of fear.

_Everyone who loves me dies. _And I'm dragged away into the darkness.


	13. The True Colors of a Mad Man

**I got disturbed writing this so I don't know how well you'll take it. Read at your own risk  
**

The Governor brought me to Maggie's room, dropped me on the floor after closing the door. I fell, crumbled on the cold ground, the bang replaying over and over again. Maggie looked down at me, her face pasty white and green with a sweat glow. She must had to listen Glenn getting beaten. But right now I don't give a damn.

The tears don't even burn anymore, they just flow from my eyes, trickling down my face. "Little fighter this one," he says, his voice cracking in my ears like nails on a chalk board. He pulls a chair from the wall, sitting down at the table opposite of Maggie. This is the part he kills her right? That was what he said he was going to do, kill everyone. "Her boyfriend though…" he looks up at Maggie with a glint of superiority, "could have prevented it if she would have told me about your camp."

My stomach twisted in knots. Anger swept over like a heat wave, one bullet can stop any bastard, just one. He looks over at me with a smirk, the power shrinking me back into my corner, unable to move or stop him.

"You know what I want," he says looking back at Maggie. "All I want is for Merle to have his brother. Maybe we can help each other out." Lies, lies, lies, he wouldn't go through all this damn trouble, beating Glenn, beating me… _killing Four. _I feel the vomit arising in my cold chest, suppressing it quickly.

"We could bring Daryl to him, we said that back at the car," she said, her voice dry and raspy.

The Governor shakes his head solemnly, putting one leg on the other, like he is trying to get comfortable. He smiles again, "one of you will tell me what I want."

No. No. No. Even though I have paid off everything I owe to these people by keeping information, I will _not _give him the satisfactory of getting what he wants.

The tears still come down, snot and blood smeared across my face. My back is still warm from Four, my skin still numb from his touch, I can feel it slowly slipping away into the air.

"Take off your shirt," I hear coldly. I have to break away from my crouch to see if I heard right. Maggie's face rippled with fear, which only fed The Governor's hunger. His eyes are vicious like a starving pig, craving the horror in her eyes. "Take off your shirt," he says again, my heart pounds, and with each sound of a beat, my brain screams.

Maggie stands, I see her legs tremble. He can't be doing this. A little voice in the back of my head retorts _he can be doing this, he is The Governor. _Her hands go to the brim of her black cotton shirt lifting it up. Her slim figure stands in front of him, and even though she wears a black bra, her arms clamp against her chest.

Maggie's brown eyes seem black with anxiety, her face swollen with fear. The tears burn again, coming out more and more, and now I can't keep from sobbing. "Stop," I cry out.

He gestures more, like he didn't hear me. I cry again and again, louder. Her hands go behind her back, undoing the strap and letting the undergarment fall to the table, her arms folding over again. My stomach is in knots, tossing and turning like I do in my sleep.

The Governor stands up, his eyes watching the fear grow. "Please," I sob, choking on my own tears. He doesn't stop until he is behind Maggie, stoking her skin and touching her face. His large hand stops on one side of her face, smacking it down on the table.

He holds her bent over the table, his hand pressed against her face. Her brown eyes fixed on me, screaming to me words I can't make out. I don't know what to do, I can't think. I hear the bangs in my head, feel the throbs of my heart beats, my brain is clogged with the warmth slipping away.

"Stop it, stop," I cry out at him, I sound so weak and pathetic, like a two year old crying for the toy she can't get. He snickers at me, his face snarled and twisted.

A hallow sound echoes through the air briefly, _knock, knock. _The Governor's head bobbed up expectantly. The door clicked open, it was Merle, still the same as when he left me. His eyes looked at what was going on, and then drifted to the floor. He almost seemed concentrate for a slight moment in time, his eyes frowning as he saw the blood drip from my face.

He pulled Glenn inside the room. Half of Glenn's face was a swollen purple, blood dripping from his jaw. The Governor released Maggie from the hold, her eyes fixed on Glenn.

"We're through with games," the Governor said, pulling out his gun. My throat closed, tight and quick, a burning sensation going down my chest. "One of you is gonna give up your camp." Glenn eyes fixed on the gun as The Governor placed it on Maggie's head.

Swiftly, The Governor throw Maggie to the side, running out towards Glenn with the gun pointed high. With each step Glenn lost a second of his life, with each step The Governor became closer to shooting him. "The Prison," gasped Maggie. He turned with the gun inches from Glenn's forehead.

"How many are you?"

Maggie gulps, pouncing on the heels of her feet nervously, but her hands remained on her chest. "Ten… ten now," she sniffled.

"Ten people cleared that whole prison of biters, huh," he asked, his temper rising. He tapped the cold barrel to Glenn's head, his eyes tempted. He drops his gun to his side with a smirk, going next to Maggie again. "Hey… it's okay," he says looking back at Glenn and stroking Maggie's hair. He grabbed a hold of her while she struggled, Glenn bounded to the floor by two guns held by Merle and another man I recognized from the wall. He lets go as she sniffled, throwing her into Glenn's arms.

He wraps his arms around her, holding her like a shield. I don't watch anymore, it hurts my entire body, makes my eyes sting with tears and heart ache as it tries to beat without exploding. The three men leave with the satisfaction of knowing.

Glenn only releases Maggie when she breaks free to put her shirt back on that had fallen to the floor.

"Where is Tobias," the voice rings in my ear, starting the replay of the bang in my head. I look up at Glenn, whose eyes are glassy and face bloody.

My throat is too tight to answer, instead I crawl in the corner, stuffing my face into my knees.

"He was a good man, took a blow to the head for me over at the store plaza," Glenn says as Maggie returns. Well I'm glad he got to die having Glenn as a fan.

"We need to get out of here, warn the others," says Maggie.

"No duh," I snap, my head jerking up from my knees. My face feels red with anger. "What else would we do, sit in here and wait until they execute us?"

"We all have issues, we have all lost…."

"Don't," I say stopping Glenn before he gave me a speech about how we are all going to get out of this, because we're not. "No speech that will make me thrive to survive, don't pretend you know, that you have been through the same things I have been through, and don't pretend that they aren't just waiting until their bored to kill us all."

"What happened," Glenn asked with a frown, "to Tobias?"

I look at the floor. _You can't take her! Siren! Siren! _A tear strolls down the side of my face. "This place is guarded by three men, the front entrance is a twenty foot wall and can only be opened around back, if we can sneak around back maybe we can get through the wall."

They nod, Glenn reaches for Maggie's hand and they sit on the floor by each other. I burry my face back in my knees, the cotton shirt consumed the scent of lemon zest and sweat.


	14. I hope You choke on Your Tears

My jeans started smell sour from tears after a while. My face felt raw, my skin soar. My hair falls loose over my eyes, the blood overpowering the sweat and dirt smell. I can't just sit here and wait until there is a bullet in the back of my skull, but I also ache when I move my legs around. It feels like it has been hours, silent hours that let the horror fill my head again.

"Don't you think they'll come for us," Maggie had whispered to Glenn.

"We can't wait for them, they might not even know." She replied with a scrunched face and a glare. "They would if they knew," he adds. She nods and wraps her arms around his torso, setting her head on his thigh and pulling her knees to her chest.

The room smelt like the room I was in before, dusty and old. The walls were cold and musty, the ceiling brown from water damage, the floor made of gravel. It's an okay place to die I guess.

The door clicked on the other side. _Here we go. _Three men stood there, their guns slung over their muscular shoulders. "Get up," one said, spitting on the gravel floor and pulling the gun that was bigger than me into his hands. Glenn got up, helping Maggie to her feet, I just sat there. "Up," he says angrily poking me with the barrel of his gun.

I didn't. Only glared at him. He shot the ground by my feet, buffing a cloud of dirt in the air. The bang pulsed through my head. Finally, his dirty hands cling to my arm, lifting me to my unsteady feet.

"Let's go," he says, spitting again, his hand painfully yanks me forward into the circle of protection they made around us. They lead us out, all of us collide into each other. "Come on, let's go!" He pokes me in the stomach, I cringe in pain, the arrow hole.

First we have to pass _his _room, the door is still wide open. My stomach feels stiff, my feet swollen, my face raw. I can't go, I just can't. I can't see the blood pool, can't see his eyes still watching me, can't do it.

I sniffle, wiping away whatever is on my face. Three feet, two feet, I can see the light shine on my foot. Before I see the bullet hole that stopped his heart, a cloud of smoke puffed from a cylinder can. The fogginess vile and burned in my eyes. I glared through the distance, my lungs filled with the stuff.

Through the thickness of white, I see three red flashes, the bangs echoing through the air, then the familiar sounds of a body falling lifeless to the ground. My heart pounds again, punching my soar chest. I can only see the shadows of people, my eyes filled with more tears.

"Siren!" I hear a voice yelled through the thickness, husky and rough. I see the faint outline of Rick, his face blotched with dirt, under his eyes red and buff, is that how I look? His gun is at his side, a body at his feet. "Are you coming," it wasn't a question, I could hear it in his voice that he wasn't leaving me.

I don't move, only stare at him blankly.

"Come on," he yelled, gesturing with his hand to move. His fingers wrapped around my wrist, this was different from when Merle or The Governor grasped my arm, his fingers were smooth, warm almost. He pulled my droned body next to him. Pointing at me with an index finger, "you're coming with us kid."

Really? Do I have to? Can't I just rot in the sun somewhere? I sigh following them out the back door and not daring to look at the room.

"You think they heard those gun shots," a voice asks, deep and untraceable in the fog.

"Wouldn't doubt it," answered Rick, he still had his hand gripped around my wrist, pulling me out of the thickness. "We're going to get out of here with as little casualties as possible, in and out." Rick stopped, causing me to collide into his back.

"Sorry," I mutter, he lets go of my wrist, his eyes scanning around the fog that was beginning to clear.

"Damn it!" He shouted, "where is Michonne?" Everyone gazes around the room, even me though I have no idea who Michonne is.

"We have to go," Daryl said in a raspy whisper, his head around the door frame. He is so different from Merle, not just in looks but everything. Looking at Merle I see a cold, determined ass hole, Daryl is different.

Rick grunts frustratingly, then clamps his hand back on my wrist like a pair of cuffs. I look over as he drags me along, the door is still open, a cloud of fog just passing through.

Outside is dark, pitch black if not for the torches lite on the streets. People casually walk around, men, women, children, like their town hasn't been broken into. They all seem to be going somewhere though, all walking in the same general direction. I ignore it as I'm tugged by Rick, who crouches along cars and crates.

The air chills the inside of my chest, clumping together in a lump. Was it just three days ago I was under the stars, the fire crackling at my side? No, it couldn't be. That feels like so long ago, drifting further and further in the back of my head.

"Will you please let me go," I whisper, my mouth dry.

He looks at me, and I can't tell if he is angry or shocked. Why would he be either? Whatever the reason, his blue eyes drill a hole in mine. "Don't make this any harder than it has to be." I frown at him, what is that supposed to mean? His fingers slowly loosen eventually opening. I jerk away after seeing how small my wrist was compared to his hand. "Stay close," he says to me, turning and crawling in the grass, he signaled Daryl, who was on the other side of the street, with a hand gesture.

"What are we waiting for," I whisper again, my knees ache but the feel of green grass makes my mouth go numb.

"A signal," he replies. By the side of an old greenish pickup truck came a cloth, orange and dingy swiping the air. He turned to face the others on the side of the other car, mainly a muscular man whose dark eyes reminded me of a dogs, he wore a blue jumpsuit with the sleeves ripped off. "Oscar, go around back with Glenn and Maggie after Daryl clears the area."

I watch the sly man move from car to car, his feet moving at a quick pace, his cross bow always ready in his hands. He stalks behind three women and their two clingy girls. "Mommy why can't I go," on whines, her hair is done in clean pigtails.

"This is strictly for the older ones sweetheart, you can go next time."

"But why does Emily get to go?" The pigtailed girl points at the taller one.

"Emily is old enough," the mother replies, they keep walking and don't even notice Daryl. One moment I am watching him and the next I'm not, Daryl had seamlessly slipped into an alleyway.

"Come on Daryl," Rick muttered under his breathe. I wasn't sure what to expect, but then I saw the familiar cylinder cans roll onto the road, exploding with grey fog. "Oscar, Glenn go!" The three figures ran to the other side, Glenn was being dragged along by Maggie and Oscar.

A scream came from behind us, they must have found the bodies. "When do we move," I ask in a panic, my mind is so clogged I can't think clearly. Rick turns, handing me a gun, he still has his two, a sniper rifle and his holstered gun, this one was smaller than my nine millimeter, slimmer to fit in my hands. I can't help but stare down at it, how heavy it is in my hands. "I…I… take it back," I say shoving it back to him.

"You need to keep it," he says in a rough voice, his eyes alert. "Get ready to move," he says with his back turned to me. I stare down at the gun, silver with a wood handle and shiny finish. The barrels cold, the handle slippery, how can I hold if it is this slippery? Rick should just take it back.

I hear the breath and heartbeat of another, the clicking feet. I look up and see a shadowy figure of a man with a gun aimed at Rick's head. Instinctively I jerk my gun up, breathing and squeezing the trigger. The lifeless man falls to the ground, his gun falling silently. What have I done? I killed him, dead, lifeless at the finger of me! My heart ripples through my head.

A small sound of pain escapes the man's dry lips, a shallow and cold groan. He isn't dead, I haven't killed him! "You shot him in the shoulder blade," Rick kicked the gun towards him, handing it to me.

I frown at it, answering simply with an embarrassed tone, "I was aiming for the head."


	15. No Man Left Behind

I think Rick would have liked to know I am an awful shot before he dragged me from the hallway. Cause I can kill Freaks fine, there already dead just wobbling around with chewed arms and legs. Humans fight back, humans kill, it's different.

By now people have been screaming, the man I had shot in the shoulder, Rick and I had to drag him in the garage, then shoot his knee cap so he couldn't follow us.

"Eeew," I gasp as blood shoots through the air, the stench of decaying flesh not completely scrubbed from this room. The man twists around in pain, holding his knee with one hand. "That is so gross…."

"Yeah well we need to get the hell out of here. Now!" His voice is back to a whisper.

I stop before we leave the garage, staring at the door that leads into the house. "Do you mind if I stay, I'll catch up I just want to…" I point towards the door.

Rick glares at me emotionless, then grabs my shoulders tightly in his hands, "I'm sorry this happened to you, but there is no time to grieve."

I look back at the door, nod with a tear strung down my face, I couldn't just _leave _could I? Just walk the other way without ever looking the back. Who will bury him, who will close his eyes? Will they even give him that decency? They'd probably just close the door, locking it and never opening, letting his body slowly decay and eventually crumble limb by limb. Or God forbid they throw him on a pit with a pile of other killings, the smell of burned flesh in the thick air.

It churned in my mind, his decomposing, soggy body tossed on to a pit, oops his arm just fell off. The chunk in my chest bobbled.

"Please I need to…" the man on the ground moaned hopelessly, his teeth chattering.

The emotionless man I had seen the entire time I knew Rick, had suddenly disappeared, Rick looked at me deeply through his bright demanding blue eyes. He sighed frustrated, he grabbed my forearm, yanking me up steps harshly. The fog had completely dissolved into the air, a constant mutter of voices droning on in the house. "Make it quick," he says releasing me before we get the door.

I watch Rick as I enter the room, "aren't you coming," I say, almost _begging. _

He shakes his head, leaning against the wall with his gun out. "This is your fight, and I wasn't kidding about hurrying…."

My fight? What does he mean by that? I don't have time to waste and find myself in the room. I trip over my feet, looking around the room. Same paint chipped walls, water damaged ceiling, concrete ground, then my eyes drift to the bloody mess on the ground. _That can't be him. _

The blood rushes out of my head, my heart beats echoing in my head. His head is twisted back, his eyes have a white film over the brilliant blue. I fall to the ground by his head, tears burning like balls of fire. His blood stains my jeans, the puddle already doused his black hair.

"Tobias…" I mouth, I expected words to form, but they didn't, instead I only got a rusty, dreadful tone and a dry mouth. I sniffle, _hurry up, _the voice in the back of my head screams. I panic, picking up his head in my hands.

His body has already entered the stages of rigor mortis, his skin ice cold. I tether my fingers through his blood drenched hair, the tears dropping down. His eyes stare up at me with fear and exhilaration, it is almost like I can feel the last thought he had before, but I can't read it, I'm too diluted in tears. The hole the size of a quarter sits in the center of his forehead, clogged with blood and a bullet.

My shaky hands come down on his face, lightly brushing them down. He looks peaceful now. I can't argue with Rick to drag the body and bury him, but I need something….

My hands work quickly, I unbutton his jacket, revealing a black t-shirt and a chain neck less with the number 4 bedazzled in white crystals hanging. I pull it off his head gently, the hardening in my chest rising again.

"Hurry someone's coming," whispered Rick roughly. I bent down hesitantly, then kissed his clammy, cold skin on his check, stroking his face for the last time. Slipping on the neck-less I bounced to my feet, my gun out and wiping the foggy tears from my face.

"Goodbye," I whispered, tucking his pendant in my shirt. Rick rushed me out the door, and that was that. No more Four.

The man had managed to wiggle three feet from the time we were gone. Outside screams echoed with the gunshots pounding in the air. Rick and I had passed three people on the way down the street, three dead people. The fog had not yet cleared and the trench nearly brought tears to my eyes.

I stopped once I lost the shadow I had been following. Left and right there was only white mist. The gunshots throbbed in my eardrums like the unsteady rap of my heart beat. The blood was now rushed to my head, my stomach knotted and twisted. "Rick," I called out, shadows past me swiftly, right left, I don't know where to run. "Rick," I say again, terror masking any other emotion or thought.

I pressed the metal part of my gun to my forehead as if it would help cool me down. I closed my eyes, _why am I such a freaken baby, pull yourself together! _But I can't. Not when my mind is in a panic, and when it's not I'm thinking of _him_.

"Rick," I cry out trying to glare through the thick haze. I turn around and see a man aiming towards me, I duck and take cover but he shoots anyways, going past my head and hitting a man on the fence. Oscar falls to the ground like a rag doll. Then I see Rick, his gun pointed at the man, his face twisted and confused. Rick shoots, then runs towards the man like he knew him. I get up from my crouch. "Are you okay?"

Rick looks at me, then back at the man who shot Oscar. "Stay close," he says latching on to my arm again and pulling me to the car.

"I saw Oscar go down," I inform him, he nods, his eyes on the look out for an opportunity to move.

"Go," Rick yells, crouching down and running towards the back fence. I follow in the same stance, crouching low the ground, close enough to smell the wet concrete from the storm early in the week. Four and I had curled on top of a mountain of cloths in the back seat of a silver minivan, the rain coaxing me to a dreamless night.

Finally, we're at the back fence, already it has been cut through to make an opening in the sheet metal. Glenn rests on the ground, his legs extended from his body. Maggie holds a large shotgun at his hip, watching with caution. There is also a woman I have never seen, her long dread locks pulled back with a colorful head band. She had a long blade that I realized was a sword, as I got closer.

"Oscar," asks Maggie.

Rick shakes his head, "she saw him go down." My eyes flicker to him, I wanted to ask him about the man who shot him. Did he know him? "Where the hell is Daryl," Rick's head whips around.

"He said he'd be right back," said the woman with the dreads. Her voice low and brown eyes shifting back and forth.

"Where were you," Rick demanded. She must be Michonne.

"We don't have time for this," Maggie said cocking her weapon, she was right, more men and women were coming from wherever they were, they know we've escaped now.

"We're not leaving Daryl behind," Rick announces.

"Glenn can barely walk, what makes you think we'll get out of this alive?" Maggie is persistent in her argument. "We can take him to the car and come back for Daryl," says Maggie. "We need more ammunition anyways."

"Fine," Rick says frustrated, he helps her lift Glenn from the ground as I yank the metal open, it scraps on my palm, I wince but only Michonne notices as she passes by.

I close the metal door with my soar arms, then run to catch up with them as we disappear into the forest.


	16. As If I'd Eat Another Raisin

Glenn's feet made long trails in the pine needles on the forest ground. He is still being dragged by Maggie and Rick, Michonne and I on lookout. Her feet move swiftly, the sword she carries has a streak of blood along the blade.

"How did you know where to look," I whisper, my gun pointed at the ground as I walk.

"I am from there," she says coldly, "watch you and the boy go down."

Anger raged over me. She watched? I glare at her with an evil glint in my eyes, "did you enjoy the show?"

"You know as well as I do I couldn't have taken Merle on, besides," she says walking on the ground, the pine needles barely crunching under her feet, "I told your people about it, they saved you didn't they?"

A growl escapes from my chest and a silky voice in the back of my head whispers _say thank you, _it is undeniably _his _voice. "Well… thanks, I guess," I frown, my mouth went dry again. Am I going crazy now, since I'm imagining his voice in _my _head? Should I tell someone?

It is easy to get lost in thought for me, because the first thing I see is a snarling, gurgling mouth falling onto my face. I scream, the Freak falling over me. It was a pasty gray and its teeth already had flesh stuck between them. Its dingy orange eyes fixed on me.

"Help," I squeal, struggling with the blob of flesh bleeding and getting it's yellow, sticky pus all over me. The smell is revolting and the skin is withered and peeled, reminding me of raisins. What are you doing!? Don't think of raisins you idiot! The Freak growled, its jaws ready to lock on to my face.

The blade shot through the forehead of the Freak, its blood oozing on my nose and drizzling down my chin. The sharp silver, and now bloody, Samurai sword retracted back, leaving me with the heavy man on my body. I pushed him off with my arms, careful not to actually touch his skin.

Rick had Glenn's arm around his neck, but his eyes remained on me. "You good," he asks. I think about it, my heart is racing, my brain is clear and ready. For the first time I do actually feel good. I nod quickly with the feeling lingering through my blood.

Glenn's feet drag again and we leave the Freak I decided to call Frank on the ground, his face plastered to the ground. My heart rate is still up, my mind still clear of anything that would make me feel anything other than exhilarated. The rush and excitement had fueled me for the rest of the way, but as we approached the cream green car that _him _and I rode in, my heart sinks down to the pit of my empty stomach.

"Set him down here," says Maggie in a mothering tone, Glenn mumbles something to Maggie, which only seems to make her mad. His eye had gotten worse, purple and inflamed, pus oozing from scraps. Rick sets him against the car door and opens the back.

Inside the car were black duffle bags and small boxes with faded labels. Gun barrels stuck out in a few places, some smaller ones set neatly aside. Rick's hand reached inside, pulling one of the duffle bags out, except it wasn't a bag at all; it was a thick black, vest. Maggie took it from him, putting it over her shirt. Quickly, Rick changed the clip to his gun, and Maggie's.

"Can you do mine," I ask, it only held fifteen bullets, nine of which were missing when I got it. His eyes turn to me, hallow and cold.

"Why do you need to go back?"

I hadn't really thought about it, the logical reason was to help save Daryl, but Rick could see it was more than that. My stomach twisted, and I get that nervousness inside that I only got when trying to convince my parents I wasn't lying. I gulp and say nothing.

He looks down at him hands, then at me with a demanding, interrogating glare, his blue eyes striking mine. "I need you to stay with Glenn."

A surge of protest ignites, "but I can be of use," I snap as he slams down the trunk door.

"Don't." His tone of voice is clearly giving me a warning.

"But I …."

He shakes his head, "this is nonnegotiable, I can't have your head conflicted out there." I can tell once he says something, his mind doesn't change, Tobias was like that.

"I need to," I beg in a pleading voice.

"Why?"

The blood rushed to my head again, my brain became fuzzy, my ears ringed. "To save Daryl," I stutter. He shakes his head again, knowing that wasn't it. "I… maybe I," I let out a frustrated hiss and before I know it my face feels hot with rage, "because I want to watch the Governor bleed out, want to watch his face as I put a bullet through his head!"

Their eyes are on me. All eight of them burning a hole through me. The world feels quiet again, lonely with the darkness around us. Now I realize I have just proved his point, proved that my head is conflicted at the moment, but that is also why I need to go. I need that rush to clear my head again. I crave it.

"Damn it!" I yell, stomping my foot down on the pavement as hard as I could, feeling incredibly stupid afterwards. "Fine I'll stay," I slid down the car door, sticking my gun in the back of my jeans. Rick nods handing Maggie another gun.

"Stay here," he says in a hushed voice to Michonne.

"Why," she asks with a frown, her sword still out.

"Just stay here, we'll be back soon."

Glenn has proven himself useful. All while I sit, being eaten by boredom, Glenn snores in a harmony. Michonne just sits there with her sword out, she looks at her reflection in the blade. My fingers twisted the chain on my neck, longing the scent of lemon zest again. But there was nothing anymore, everything was just gone. Him, his smell, the shirt he gave now me drenched in Freak flesh, the only thing I have is the number four on a chain.

If I close my eyes tightly, I can almost imagine his arms wrapped around me, warming me inside. His voice whispers in my ear _go to sleep Sirenity, I'll fight off those nightmares with my bare hands. _I can't risk it, what if the voice is lying and is not strong enough to keep them off? I know once I fall asleep the only place I'll be is back in the room, with The Governor and _him. _

I could have killed the Governor today, or at least died trying. If I had just followed them back to the town….

The wind wisped a cool breeze going right through me. My arms wrapped around myself, "we should get him in the car," I shiver. She nods sliding the sword back in its case. I prop the door open and help lug him into the seat, lying him on his back.

Both Michonne and I crawl into seats but neither of us sleep that cold, dark night under twinkling stars.


	17. He Had Got To GO

_**Sorry for not updating in a while, hope this satisfies and promise for a new chapter every day. Thanks for reading and please review! **_

My thoughts are eating me alive. I need to do something, move, jump, anything. I can't sit here. Not when the sun is starting to come up and Glenn is starting to wake up. _Wait… I need to kill something. _My stomach pings, cringing when I realize that is what I'm craving.

I want to take a bat, run up to a Freak, and smash and smash until my hands bleed. A groan from the back of the car wakes me from my daydream. "Maggie…" he moans, almost a whimper. Michonne and I glance at each other, like for a split second we were sharing thoughts between each other. "Where is she?"

His voice is so weak, almost like a child's, so innocent and pathetic. I look in the back seat, Glenn has melted into the seat, his eye giving out a yellow, putrid liquid with an ooze of hot blood, his face has a green sheet of slim over it. Seeing him makes my stomach churn, the taste of vomit echo through my mouth. "Hey Glenn," comes out in a cracked, weak gasp.

"Where is she," he demands, little by little his energy coming back. It almost frightened me. His voice now stronger than mine. I gulp. What will I tell him? I'm worried myself for them.

"They're on their way," I say sulking in my seat. Sometimes I wish I was a turtle and could just crawl away in my shell. Just like The Governor said, weak and pathetic.

"Can you promise that?" Glenn's voice is shark, ragged and raged. Michonne really could be of use right now, but she just stares blankly out the window. Glenn doesn't wait for an answer, he stumbles on his feet, out the car and into the thick, groggy morning air.

We follow, I slam my door angrily, looking back to make sure I didn't damage the window. I didn't. Now Glenn is limping away slowly down the road, confused on where exactly his going. "Glenn, for one you're going the wrong way," I say, feeling a gust of superiority through me, "secondly you really think Michonne and I are going to let you waddle away?"

He turns, angry then gives up and sits on the road. Michonne leans against the car door, as if she just had a long day's work done. I don't know why it makes me so aggravated.

I get bored, something that _he _never let me do. I throw some rocks, skip, twirl a little, let my thoughts eat me again, crave for Freak blood on my hands, eventually I let out a gasp of frustration and kick a tire.

Then, there is a rustle in the forest. Followed by a familiar group of voices and a crunch of a branch. We are all on our feet, walking in a crouch with our weapons drown.

I hear them before I see them, "now Glenn," Rick says, his hand out. Then Glenn bolts forward into the woods with his gun pointed up. _Merle. _Even I draw my gun, pointing the barrel at his head. Everything inside me screams to shoot him, but the voice of reason known as Rick yells, "drop your weapons!"

There it is. The thing that starts it all. Next thing I know everyone is screaming at each other, arrows pointed at people, swords aimed for others. My gun remains on him. Daryl is cursing, seems to be fine but the redness under his eyes suggest his been crying. Wait… the arrow is pointed at me. I glare at Daryl, my side reminding me I've already been shot by him.

"Put the sword down!" Rick's hand is on the blade, pushing it aside. And Merle is there, laughing as if watching some romantic comedy. He sickens me. Michonne glares, her predator eyes stuck on her target. Things were said, particularly about some Andrea lady apparently they both knew. But my gun stayed on Merle.

Something sickening comes out of Merle's mouth. I can't tell what because I am too focused on Daryl and his cross bow. The infuriating voice echoes in the woods, crackles and gives me a head ache. Then, like turning the light to a switch off, Merle's voice stopped, and the familiar sound of an unconscious body hitting the floor takes his place. I look up, Merle is on the ground, Rick has is gun by the barrel, flipping it over an angrily stuffing it back in the holster.

Daryl waits for me to put my gun away before walking off like the others. To be honest, I am sorry not to have Daryl on my side and by the look he gives me, its never going to happen. Rick leads us back to the highway, and Daryl makes sure I don't turn around to put a bullet in his brother's head. But I'm wondering if I could even do it. Kill Merle. Everything inside me tells me it is the right thing to do, that Four would do it for me. There is a voice in my head again, his voice, _do what is right. _

What does that even mean? Do what is right. Killing Merle feels right, but is it? Shit, I hate this. I am so confused, so lost, in a matter of days, maybe hours I could be dead because of how I'm acting. Okay, kill Merle, kill The Governor, then what? At least die trying, what do I have left to loose besides my life, which hasn't really been worth much in the last few hours. _Do what is right. _

"Siren," a voice says, it took me a few moments to realize it wasn't in my head. Rick looks at me expectantly, but then adds, "don't check out yet." I follow them to the center of the road, crossing my arms and kicking the dead leaves around on the road. Behind us, Michonne has stopped, obviously she thinks this is about her or something, arguing over if she can stay, then if the sickening, repulsive Merle can tag alone. What about me? Was I on the bucket list or something? Do I even get a say if I want to go back there?

"He can't stay," says Glenn as soon as he can and I completely agree. He has got to go.

"I can't leave him again," retorts Daryl, in the distance, I can hear the faint groaning him waking up. "He is blood." I feel sick suddenly, light headed, my stomach turning, my forehead sweaty. The torn shirt I wore was still drenched in blood, only getting wetter. My sides starts in twisting pain again, my bones rattling. I close my eyes together tightly, grasping my side.

They don't see me, or ignore my pain since they keep arguing over it. "My family, my blood is right here, and waiting at the prison," says Glenn with anger in his voice.

"And your apart of that family," Rick says, I almost get fuzzy inside then realize it was directed towards Daryl.

"No him no me," very slowly those words form in my mind. What does that mean? Daryl is leaving? With him?

"No that's not what I meant," snaps Glenn.

"No him no me."

"What will we tell Carol," asks Glenn, his voice lowering.

"She'll understand," he shrugs.

"But," Glenn argues, the angry footsteps stomping away suggest Daryl didn't want to hear it. No Merle, no Daryl. I open my eyes again, almost disappointed when I realize I am still here. Rick follows Daryl to the light green Honda, hopefully talking some sense into him.

But he didn't. Because we all watch as Daryl and Merle go into the woods, not even looking back. I can hear growls of laughter as they go deeper into the woods, then completely disappear. I don't even want to think about Carol's reaction to this. I didn't know her well, but there was something there that everyone can see, except maybe them, because now he is gone, and she is waiting for him to return.

I am the first to break the depressing silence with my crackled, broken, gasping voice, "what now," I say. It sounds like I have been crying.

Rick turns, squinting, "we go home," he replies.

I shake my head, the world shaking with it, "I mean for me." Another twisting, teeth clinching ache shoots up my side, only stopping when I stomp my foot hard on the ground and grind my teeth together.

He frowns, as if confused with the question then says in a superior voice, "you're coming with us." A hint of defiance pulses through my veins.

I shake my head again, "then what, do I stay, do I go, do I even have a choice?"

Rick walks up to me, leaning with one hand on the Honda and the other resting on his gun holster, and says as simple as he can, "no." I frown, angered, "not when you can barely stand. Not when you can't shoot a gun or sit without hurting yourself. Your unhinged and uncontrollable, young and ignorant, and I will not send you out there with nothing but a round of bullets and a gun you can't even use." He stands straight and adds with a snap, "get use to it."


	18. Road Trips with a side of Walker Guts

The rest of the ride was awkwardly silent. I curled up with my knees to my chest, clutching the sore side and whimpering when a wave of pain struck. Maggie rested her head on the window, not a word of what happened with The Governor. Michonne sighed loudly a few times, maybe hoping for someone to start a conversation, but it never happened.

The car stopped with a tight hiss of the breaks. I uncurled from my shell and looked expectantly at everyone. Not the prison. I am almost relieved when I see the car and tree stretched crookedly over the road, blocking the way "home."

Rick steps out of the car, Glenn follows, then Maggie, I get ready to turn and go when Rick puts his hand up, signaling a halt. "What now?" I feel still feel to flimsy to move, but I manage to peel my hand from my side and cross my arms.

"Three is enough," his eyes flash to Michonne, who was ready to open her door, then relaxed back in her seat.

"Just need to stretch my legs," I argue, it has been a while since I've been bossed around like this, but I am not new to arguing. He simple shakes his head and just like that it has been decided, I stay in the car with the sword lady. "Ugh," I sigh in frustration after he leaves.

Michonne reminds me oddly of a cat, more a tiger. She breathes cautiously, not completely content but not on her feet. Her sword sits across her lap, her long fingers stroking the white leather over the handle. Michonne looks comfortable, but her eyes say she is ready for anything, if I were to reach over her, trying to bite her like a Freak, she'd be ready to take her sword and put me down like the snap of a finger. But it isn't until she says in a low whisper, "I got revenge," that I feel safe around her.

"What do you mean," I whisper back, it feels ridiculous since everyone else was gone, but it felt right.

Her eyes flash to me, not as predatory as when she looked at Merle, more soft and soothing but she speaks as if no emotion pulses through her veins. "The Governor." She frowns, looking back ahead, "took out his eye, and put his walker daughter down."

I feel sick again. His daughter, on chains, locked somewhere away in a cellar where he kept her…all to himself. In a way, I am pleased with knowing he had a family, and he lost them just like the rest of the world, just like me. The disgust, repulsed, deter I have for him has only grown stronger, like the fiery rage that will take down Woodbury once and for all.

And she took an eye. One of his eyes is gone, he will always look at it and know that I will never give up, and I am happy to say I would want Michonne on my assassination team. "I just thought you'd want to know." Her eyes travel down to the floor, _she knows. _

"Thank you." I don't say more, only watch as Glenn smashes a Freaks head in to the pavement, smash, smash, smash, until it is less than nothing. That can't be healthy. Now he yells, I can only tell by his jugular sticks straight out, a vein popping on his forehead. Eventually, Maggie gets Glenn to push with Rick, until the truck rolls down the ditch.

Glenn stomps to the car, slamming the door when he is finally in, letting out a frustrating sigh and smashing his palms over his eyes. Maggie slides in a few moments later, her face pasty white, her eyes glassy. Rick sits, looks over at Glenn, then starts the engine again.

_All is lost. _

That is all I see in the back of my head, the whole way there. I don't know why. But it is all I hear, all I see, all I can wrap my mind around. My thoughts are bonded by this one thought. _All is lost. _Maybe it is just my teenage girl way of overdramatizing things. Feels like more though, because with everything that has happened, this is the only thing I'm thinking.

I even smack myself in the head a few times. It only gives me a massive head ache and makes the world spin around a couple dozen times. Then I realize I am only feeding Rick's beliefs on me not being able to take care of myself, because he turns, giving me a look that would make anyone retract into a cave. In his eyes I am an undisciplined, sixteen year old girl who hasn't ever been on her own, not completely true. When I was thirteen my parents went on a cruise, leaving me in the hands of my sisters, which is basically the same as being alone since they snuck off every chance they got. Then of course, after the third wave of Freaks took out the rest of us, it was only me and… _Four. _

Nevertheless, Rick is the all and powerful leader I guess, and isn't going to stand for me to just pack up and leave. Maybe I can tag along with Michonne when they kick her to the curb. Just maybe.

Rick makes a sharp turn, causing me to lose my grip on my side, "damn it," I scream, nearly pass out with an excruciating, twisting sensation that stabs my body with pain. My hand is painted red with blood, but I only learn that after wiping my forehead. "Stop!" I shout, my lungs as dry as my mouth, my head as light as air. The Honda stopped and my body sprung across Maggie's legs, opening the door and coughing up whatever managed to stay in my stomach. "Sorry," I moan, climbing back into the seat, Maggie looks repulsed, only making my chest colder.

He starts to drive again, the dirt road covered in bumps and rocks. We pull up to the prison, it is even more amazing then I remember it. The fence, sturdy and structured, so secluded only few Freaks lean against the wall. The boy, Carl, and the woman, Carol, stood at the door, smiles once they saw the Honda rolling into view. It is beautiful here, the barred windows and drably grey color don't even matter.

The Honda is turned off, the nauseating roar of the engine stopped. I actually sigh in relief, trembling as I move. Rick and the others shuffle out, hugs are given, Rick hugs the boy Carl so warmly and comforting it makes my stomach knot up and my chest harden. "Where is Daryl," I hear Carol ask, her eyes look at me, then flash through the back seats.

She looks at Rick like her world is slowly crumbling, and if Daryl is gone, she'd turn into dust and blow away into the wind. "Alive," he reassures, Carl's eyes are fixed on me with a sudden glare. Carol it still in a shock, her muscles locking, her breathe short, tears forming in her eyes. "He went with his brother."

"Gone," she sobs, it is as if I just watched her heart drop and shatter on the ground. My heart aches and I want to scream again, like I did on the road, oh God, the highway, the camper, the girl Sophia, him, it all floods back to me now, then the words_, All is lost, _and I know what it means. _He is lost. _Daryl is lost, Sophia, my parents are lost, my sisters, my Tobias… _all is lost. _

Rick puts his arm around her and they start going forward, leaving me groveling in the seat, blood pooling on the leather. Then Carl turns, the glare still on his face, his large hat shading half his face, to be honest he looks intimidating. He sways up to me, weapons strapped to his legs, a gun holstered. "I'd better get you inside," he says, making me frown, I thought he'd resent me, I am in fact someone he has never met, or known, just a stranger staining his family's car with my blood.

Now I'm seeing things, because I'm pretty sure there aren't pink bubbles floating by his head or a heard of butterflies on his hat and face, so I say, "that would be best I think," right before I barf on his shoes and black out.


	19. (Everyday) I Loath For You

_Weak and Pathetic. Weak and Pathetic. Weak and Pathetic. Weak and Pathetic. It sickens me. It sickens me. It sickens me. _

_But at least after you watch your friends die one by one I'll have myself a little soldier. _

I wake up screaming. Screaming. Screaming. The darkness engulfing me, the dry, drab air smothering my lungs. I want to die in this moment. Because I can see it. A life time of nightmares, never being able to close my eyes without seeing his snake-like face. I am in a cell, nothing is familiar too me, it is dark, the pillow squished to the cot with sweat. My side was stitched again, the blood cleared, my hair was even taken out of the messy, blood/sweat/dirt pony tail and smelled like laundry detergent. In my arm was a needle, attached to a tube filling me with more blood. Yanking it out, my eyes scanned the room, searching for something while I screamed.

Then I saw it. Dangled from the bed above me, a bedazzled 4. The screams become sobs at that moment, I clench the neck lace, pulling it from the bed. The metal was cold and soothing, so I smashed it against my hot cheeks, crying on my pillow.

I gasped the sweaty air, tears and saliva filling my mouth. This is worse pain than before. When it was just the wound and the bruises, it seemed so simple. Now my chest seemed chilled with my frozen, heavy heart. No clear thought can be heard, yet my mind plays a rerun of memories.

He scooped me up like I was nothing, his bare feet running in the green grass. The sun on our backs and the blue sky above us. I was screaming in protest, but he didn't listen, he tossed me into the freezing water. "Damn you Four!" I shouted after swimming to the surface, a smile on my face. His face twisted with a smirk, as boyish as I have ever seen him. Then without warning, dived in with me.

"You okay," he says, but his voice has changed, somewhat high-pitched and not at all his. He never said that. And I'm back. Back in the dark room, at the door is Beth her tired eyes staring at me through the darkness. It takes me a moment to recollect myself, I close my eyes as tight as I can, hoping to see it again, wishing for a nothing second of it. It didn't work, because I feel Beth sit down on my cot. "Can I do anything for you," she whispers.

I open my eyes. What was I to her? Was her father merely having her be polite to me since I am a guest? Why is she here, why can't she just ignore me like everyone else? But she won't leave until I answer, so I shake my head, wiping my face of the tears, there is probably a big 4 impression on my red cheek but I didn't care. I am nothing but the guest who stained the car seats, and puked on Carl's shoes. I'll be gone by morning… promise.

"How long did you know him?"

I smash my head back on the pillow, why is she doing this? Asking me about him? But I feel a little push in my head, edging me to try. I swallow, pain going down my throat. My mom told me that meant I needed to cry more, that I haven't gotten it out yet and it wouldn't stop until I did. But mom, there is just not enough time in the world to get everything out. So I take a risk, "since the end of the world… and a little before then."

I have never told anyone that. It was our secret, and Beth better respect it. She nods, maybe sorry she asked because now she needs to keep asking, "how did you meet?"

I smile, "I got arrested."

Her blue eyes stay comforting, and I know she is listening to me. Her hand rests next to my foot, the other on her leg. Her blond hair is pulled back, her cloths stained with sweat. She is beautiful, as beautiful as her sister. Her thin lips stay closed, telling me she wanted a story.

I didn't know if I really wanted to share it with her, no one knew about it, not my parents, not my sisters who feed off gossip, it was mine and his to have. "Summer of my fourteenth birthday, my friends brought me shopping, I tagged along really, but I could not stand another night at home. Little did I know over summer they dabbled in the arts of shop lifting. So they said, 'just once Sirenity, just once,' of course, I wasn't one to give into pressure but after they started giggling and saying, I didn't have the guts. I shoved a lip gloss in my pocket and ran through the security." I laughed, "the sirens went off, red flashes and noises everywhere, security guards stumbling over each other to catch me. And clumsy me I ran into someone, his eyes were such a brilliant ice blue I lost my train of thought and stopped. 'Excuse me miss,' he said with a white grin, he also had a trail of security guards after him, so he grabbed my shoulders and ran with me down the escalators, which went up by the way, so as we struggled, a whole team of security people struggled with us, cursing and raging in fury. But," I sighed happily, looking down at the blanket, "another team met us at the bottom, and we were hauled to the city jail. Oh, I was crying, so many tears, and I looked up at him and asked why he wasn't scared, he replied cockily, 'frankly dear, I don't give a damn.' And we went our separate ways, didn't see him for another year and a half."

She smiled, and I'm suddenly reminded that all those people are dead. Every single one. Except me. Lucky Me.

"You should leave," the happiness has drained from my body, the heaviness of my heart a reminding that it isn't that easy. She frowns, lightly tapping my foot with her hand, like somehow that could comfort me, then she disperses into the darkness. And here I am.

Every feeling quickly comes back, as do the tears, and the hot cheeks. But I curl under the blanket, the 4 neck lace in my hands. It happens again, in the back of my mind I hear the calm, soothing words, _I'll fight those nightmares off with my bare hands. _And I drift off into a dreamless night.

A light tap on my shoulder wakes me up, my mouth hangs open with a pool of drool on my pillow. My snores cut short and I open my eyes. Only blue eyes stare back. Kind eyes that mean business. Carl.

I can't believe I was snoring. I have never snored, I am not a snorer. And if you ask, I'll tell you exactly that. I pick the 4 from off my cheek, putting the chain around my neck and sitting up straight. "How long was I out," I yawn.

"Long enough, any longer you'd have thought you'd slipped into a coma." He smiles a little, and I can already tell he isn't one to smile often so I make myself smile back.

"What happened while I was out?"

"Not much," he said looking around as if thinking about it. Was I really out that long? "Tyreese and his people are gone, Michonne is still her but…."

"Wait," I cut him off, now completely confused, "who is Tyreese?" Going through my sore mind, I sift through people. Daryl is gone, Oscar dead, everyone here is still alive. Carol. Carl. Rick. Beth. Maggie. Glenn. The baby. Axel. Hershel. Me. No Tyreese in there.

"Oh," his head bobs up, "while you were at Woodbury, Tyreese and a small group made their way in the prison, I found them and brought them here, my dad decided it best if they leave," Carl's eyes look down from my face. "We aren't too good with newbies."

I frown, "what about me?"

He shrugs, "you're not really new, are you? Came in 'bout a week ago." Has it really been that long? I want to count on my fingers but my head is mixed around. "Plus no one really sees you as threatening…" he scrunches his nose and whispers, "you're kinda small." Which makes me smile because I'm about a head taller than him. "Come on we're on watch," he smacks his hand on my cot as if that would arouse me from my bed.

I groan, putting a smile on his face. I kick the covers off, at the end, they got caught on my legs and I had to pull them free. I lift my blood stained, black t-shirt, the once dime-sized hole is a quarter sized, purple and black streaks painting my stomach and side. I wince but the pain seems to be numbed.

"Hershel gave you some pain pills while you were out, didn't want you to wake up in pain," says Carl, who waits by the door. I nod, thinking on how exactly he got me to swallow them. I pull down my shirt, the cotton rough on my skin. My legs are stiff, but I walk out the door fine. It isn't until the stairs that I lean against Carl, who's stronger than he looks.

"I'm sorry," I say in a struggle.

"Don't worry about it," he replies as we touch the ground again. I want him on my assassination team. Michonne. Beth. Carl. What a team I have. Some people throw me looks, mostly Maggie, though I think it has to do with the room back at Woodbury. I gulp the memory down my tight throat.

Carol smiles, folding up a towel. "How you feelin' sweetie?"

I smile weakly back, these people all heard me cry myself to sleep last night, I can see it in their eyes, yet they stay silent. "Better thank you."

"Sorry for the smell of your hair," she says, "it was all we have."

In a little plastic white box, a whimper escapes. She pulls out the baby wrapped in a dainty blanket with some blood stains and unicorns on it. The baby girls hair is jet black, her cheeks rosy red and thick, the beautiful brown eyes stare at me, full of tears. "Aww," is all I say, because I find my heart aching again, and all I want to do it hold her little fingers.

"Judith," Carol says in a calming voice, bouncing her around. "You wanna hold her?"

I turn around and look at Carl, somehow I want his okay before I do. He nods but somehow I end up saying, "huh," I nervously smile, "maybe some other time…."

"Okay," says Carol.

"And thank you so much for cleaning me up, the soap is fine really." She smiles and nods. I follow Carl outside, the air as stale as ever, but outside it is less dusty. The sun is blocked but it is still bright outside to where I have to shade my eyes.

"This way," Carl says. I look around, some things are familiar. This is where they decided we would leave. Where our lives were dangled over a cliff, save them, or leave them? This group has never sickened me more, but then I see Carl, and his little sister Judith, I see Carol, with her Daryl, whose God knows where with Merle. Maggie with Glenn and Beth with her father, everyone is family here. Except me and Michonne, between the two of us we are the odd men out, the third wheel, and here I am thinking selfishly again, because I am wishing to pull Four here with me. "Are you coming or not," Carl's voice made me jump, I hadn't realized I stopped.

"Yeah," I say, walking in a way that doesn't hurt my side. Carl leads me up to somewhere he calls 'The Love Shack' and explains to me that Maggie and Glenn have already claimed it. Sickened yet again, I follow him up the tower, which once you're up, the wind blows right through you. It isn't very high, twenty, twenty-five feet, but I have always been afraid of heights.

"See," Carl says after I grab a hold of the railing, "I told them you're strong as nails, not some dinky scared of heights girly girl." I shove him into the wall for that, but can't help but smile a little.

"So what is it I'm looking for?"

"Walkers," he looks at me, "you know," he shows his teeth, "raw, raw, raw." He turns back, "loosely translated, please let me in, I promise I'll behave this time." I chuckle, this is his way of making me smile, and I like it.


	20. The War Begins

**I am so sorry guys for not updating. Its been busy lately, but I won't bore you with excuses. Plus I've been kind of empty on ideas. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy! **

Carl and I hung out most of the day before I was called to lunch or dinner or whatever. It didn't matter. I didn't eat. Just sat and stared at the thick soup Carol put together. She and Axel seemed to be getting close, which is weird because I was so convinced Daryl and her had something. Its none of my business anyways.

Carl wondered away after a while, leaving me to listen to Axel tell flirtatious jokes, making Carol giggle. "Anything I can do to help," I ask her between giggles and jokes.

"Oh no sweetie, but Hershel might need to check on those stitches," she says, turning back to Axel, who twirls his mustache as he flirts. I get up from my seat, putting the bowl of gravy/soup/mud back in the soup pot that sizzled over a small pit of coals.

Outside was warm, the sun shining down. I walked around on the platform before my eyes found Hershel, crutching towards the fence down the hill. Michonne camped out in a tipped over bus, I guess she didn't feel comfortable in the prison, which neither did I but something persuaded me to stay.

I clutched the 4, walking down the hill towards Hershel. Each time I leaned on my left side, a shooting pain went up my back, but I did my best to ignore it. I stopped halfway, watching Hershel call into the woods for Rick. For some reason, I felt the need to hide. I crouched down in the tall grass, listening to Rick and Hershel bicker.

"I got… _things," _Rick answers back to Hershel's 'what are you doing out here.' I am trying my best to stay optimistic about this all, but it is the undeniable truth that Rick, the leader, is slowly circling the drain, and I may be the only person to admit it. The ground beneath me shakes after a loud, rippling gunshot fires through the air. I quickly look at myself, God I ripped my freaking stitches again, but other than that… I'm clean.

My neck snaps back, looking for the target. Then I see it, a bloody gash through Axel's temple. A tuff of dirt flies by me, sending my body to jerk forward, on to my feet. Bullets. Bangs. Blood. Everywhere. _We are under attack. _

My hand goes to the back of my pants, searching for the missing gun. "Get down," an order shoots, I don't know who it was, only fall to my stomach. Peering through the grass, I see the blood fly like confetti in the air. My heart beats up my chest, vibrating the ground underneath me. The cold rock in my chest builds, making drips of sweat come down on my forehead.

I see Carl, shooting at The Love Shack. Beth crouched down, her gun shaking in her hands. Maggie is there, hiding behind file cabinets, and Carol, using Axel as a shield. I feel sick knowing I can't do anything, yet I stay glued to the ground, tears streaking my eyes. A chuckle echoes through my head, _weak and pathetic. _

More gun shots, and behind me I hear a car, radio blasting, heading straight for the fences. The metal hinges break free, and a square van drives through, missing Hershel by a yard and coming straight for me. Instead of screaming, instead of running or crawling or even trying to get way, I close my eyes tightly, excepting the inevitable.

_Get up Sirenity! Get up! _His voice jumps around my head, cursing at me. Somewhere inside me, I feel a ping of hatred, closing my eyes tighter while the van spun around in the grass. _DON'T DO THIS! NO! _"Damn it," I whisper hoarsely, opening my eyes. Three. Two. One. I roll away towards the mangled fences and more bullets. Each tumble making me wince in pain. The van pulls over at the very spot I was, the door swinging open.

Someone gets out, looks straight at me while I roll, but the masked person in black ran opposite, getting gunned down by someone on the platform. Freaks pile out of the van, stumbling towards, well everywhere, there were so many of them. I stop rolling, my face towards the grey cloud, covered sky, my side spooling in blood.

My ears ring and the ground continues to shake around me. People dead, Freaks being used as weapons, gun shots echoing through my ear drums… _The Governor has arrived. _I peek up head up, and there he is, swinging a gun around like a teenager high on drugs. Rick is tripping over his own feet, running around while dirt paints the air. Michonne tries her best to shoot a gun, but she is like me, horrible at the whole gun thing. Hershel is still crouched on the ground, Freaks invading the area.

"Michonne," I whisper roughly, her eyes flicker on me and I point towards Hershel, she nods, skidding towards the heard of Freaks with her sword, dripping with blood. I sit up, my sides burning, my head light. The blood quickly rushes to my head, black cloudy my sight. When I can see again, Rick is running from Freaks, picking them off one by one. Behind me, the guy in the Love Shack falls to the ground, The Governor hopping into the truck and speeding away.

I want to yell for Michonne again to save Rick, but my mouth falls dry and all I can do is watch. His gun clicks, signaling that he is out of ammo. He wrestles them, the sweat dripping from his messy curls. Suddenly, an arrow shoots through the Freaks' face, nearly taking out one of Rick's brilliant blue eyes. Daryl emerges from the woods, firing his crossbow. I almost was to jump with excitement I am so pleased, then his brother slithers out of the forest, also helping save Rick.

The three men circle through, killing as many Freaks as they can. Hershel is back on his feet, limping away with the help of Michonne, and here I am again, alone with a hungry Freak on my scent. "Damn it Siren," Rick roughly calls out, letting Daryl kill three Freaks I had no idea were right behind me. The men stop, "can you move," he demands, the sanity filling up in his eyes. He didn't wait for me to think about it, only reached down, scooping me up in his arms like I was nothing more than bone. "Lets go," he calls to the brothers.

I feel awkward having Rick carry me. Not because he is carrying me, but because as weak as I am, he is just as, yet here he is, haling me up hill and killing Freaks while he is at it. Carl and Glenn quickly work on closing off the main fence that didn't break, while we slip inside, Rick setting me down on the benches.

"Is anyone hurt," Rick asks, his eyes skimming through the people, stopping briefly at Axel then continuing. It shocks me how quickly he can go from losing it to completely ready to strike. Hershel grunts towards me, crouching down at lifting my shirt, I ignore him while he bickers about how many times he is really going to stitch me, and listen to Rick. "Glenn, Maggie secure the perimeter. Hershel, Beth help get Siren inside, make sure she stays in her cell." A twist of anger goes through me, but I don't object to his order, "Daryl bring your brother inside, lock him in a cell until we figure out what to do with him." Everyone nods, Glenn and Maggie tracing the left wing and killing any Freaks along the fence.

Hershel stands, leaning on a crutch. "You don't have to make this difficult sweetheart," I nod, as he and Beth help me through the prison.

"Thank you for stitching me up Hershel," I say after he takes a needle and thread through my torso. He and Beth get up to leave, I stand, expecting to help contribute in some way.

"What do you think you're doing," asks Beth in the metal door frame.

"Uh, I'm going to help," I say matter-of-factly. Carl pops out from behind the door, a set of keys in his small hands. "Is there a problem?"

"Well Siren," snaps Carl, turning the keys on his finger, "seems to me you won't heal until you've stopped ripping your stitches."

"Yeah. And?"

"And you'll be a helpful member and earn your stay after you've healed," says Carl, his hand goes on the door and I know what happens next.

"Wait don't!" It is too late, the door creaks closed, Carl locking it before he leaves. I frustratingly scream in my pillow, crashing on my thin cot and clutching the four around my neck, hoping to get lost in another daydream.


	21. Cat in a Cage

Being locked away has given me a lot of time to think— which is bad. I spent a chunk of the time doodling on the walls with a rusty nail. Mostly stick figures and rain clouds but it kept the terrors away. The bouncy ball tucked in between the beds became my best friend. I was even reduced to building a fort out of blankets.

It has been three hours since the shooting.

I know this because on the left wall, I'm drawing tick marks, or at least trying to piece together time, not knowing is painful. Under the protection of the fort, I stare up at the dangling 4, waiting for more thoughts to consume me.

Jessica Wilson was my best friend. She had long reddish brown hair, huge green eyes and more freckles than the sky. I called her Strawberry Shortcake for the span of our friendship. She wore a jean jacket every day, Jessica was like me with my converse. Her thick straight hair pulled back into a messy bun. The reason we were drown together is cloudy, only that we both were somewhere we didn't want to be.

Jessica and I were glued to the hip, as my father would annoyingly say. Shortcake hadn't had much family growing up, so we practically adopted her. Her mother was a psychopathic druggy and her dad, well, _call me when you meet him_, she used to say.

She was with me when disaster struck, and my mother gathered the bare minimal, shoving us into a minivan and taking the back road. The sixth week in 'Camp Hell' Tobias, Shortcake, a guy named Henry, and I went off into the woods for fire wood. She wore her jean jacket, her hair down, her eyes observant and flickering about with every sound.

Henry, a bold middle age man, who was a douche bag in everyone's eyes, had the shot gun. That was when I learned that Freaks are attracted to sound… and she was dead before anyone could react, the blood trickling down her forehead. It had been Henry's fault for shooting at trees, but now that I think about it, I begged her to come with me.

I get up from the fort, picking up the little nail. I walk over to a blank space, carving the word _Jessica Wilson, _in the wall. A hallow knock echoes through my cell, my head jerks to the metal door frame, tired of my cage. It's Maggie, she holds up a tray, probably dinner. Her eyes are shallow, no emotion crossing her face. She kneels down, sliding the tray under the door as if I'm some kind of monster she doesn't want to touch.

She stands, hesitance in her brown eyes, but then starts to turn. "Maggie," I say in a somewhat clear voice. Maggie turns, staring at me as if staring into my soul and seeing all the blood I have on my hands. I gulp, "thanks for the soup," I spit out, I wanted to say something else, but her eyes pleaded not now. She nods, adding a shy smile before walking away.

I crawl back into my fort, lying down and facing the wall, ignoring the mud/soup/slop and repeat the process starting with Denny Bernard.

I stand back, admiring my wall. _Jessica Wilson. Denny Bernard. Felix Madigan. Jack Crosby. Vivian Young. George Hector. Benny Hector. _It gets harder and harder with each name I read. _Cara Tailor. Sara Tailor. Elizabeth Tailor._ An image of my mother pops in my head, the dream I had of her trying to eat me. _David Tailor. _But the last name has not been written, cause I can't bring myself to sketch it into the wall.

Each person believed in me, thrived in me to save them. But in this world, chain reactions are set. If I don't kill this Freak he dies, if I don't check that room she dies, the results are the same, they die and my hands are the only ones bloody. I fall to my knees, tears threatening to escape. I crawl into the corner of the cell block, my heart beat the loudest think in the prison.

I pick up the burry ball chucking it at the wall. It bounces back, landing in my palm. "At least you'll stay with me," I say, a wave of tears coming down my cheeks. Always a cry baby.

Night comes, then morning, my time spent doing the same things, night again, now morning. Finally my sanity begins to slip away and I feel completely heal… physically that is. The only thing let is a soreness in my entire body, but I don't think that is ever going away any time soon.

"Anytime now," I say one afternoon, everyone is beneath the ledge, arguing about Merle. My arms dangle out of the bars, my face pushed through. They pay no attention to me and keep arguing. "No I'm serious, let me out! Please," I yank on the bars as if they are made of plastic and will eventually break apart. "Ugh. You guys suck!"

That seemed to get someone's attention, because soon after Carl comes looking dirty and sweaty with the keys jingling around his finger. In the other hand, he has one of those guard night stick things that look like mini baseball bats. "You are interrupting," he scowls as if I'm a five year old who joined into an adult's conversation, he taps the bars with the bat.

"Really," I ask in a high-pitched sarcastic voice. "You gonna bust me out of here or what Shorty?"

"Yeah, yeah just shut your face when you get down there," he orders, I nod, anything to get me out of here. I watch closely as he sticks the key into the key hole. "Free to go," he swings open the door and I take a moment to breathe.

"This must be how prisoners feel," I say with a gasp.

His blue eyes roll, "you were in there for two days. Now get going before I change my mind."

I like Carl, I can see us being friends, but a twisting in my stomach tells me otherwise and I imagine Carl's name on my wall. I shake the thought, giving Carl a smile and walking out of the cell. He closes the door slightly, leading me down the stairs.

Downstairs everyone gathers, I glare across the room at the very locked up Merle. "Oh look who it is," he slithers in a raspy voice. "Little Princess come to join the debate?" _I want to kill him. _

"Oh hahhahaha, fuck you Merle."


	22. Fun Has a Price

Three (ish) Weeks Later

I crouched near an abandoned car. The blood pounding in my ears. My feet ache and my stomach growls in desperation. Three bullets left. Seven walkers near the doors. Glenn and Maggie must be inside, because no one is guarding my back.

I am not regretting going on this run. I haven't been out in what feels like forever and I finally got that target practice. Yet that group, the people I have been considering to call family, will be the death of me I swear.

The arrow wound is healed, but yellowish bruises still cling to my side, reminding me of that night. Sweat trickles down the arch of my back, the walkers can smell it and turn towards the crashed greyish car. Three bullets, and seven walkers on my trail. I waddle across to another car, the walkers are confused for seconds then catch my scent again.

I do a beehive line to the front entrance of the mall. I don't even know what city we're in, only that this is the only mall that hasn't been checked. Walkers reach out for me, seeing my struggle towards the door. I'm almost there, I can practically touch the glass doors, but my feet catch on the curb and my nose falls flat on the concrete. _Crack! _

"It is not fun to be you," a voice mutters above me. I peek up, the sun blinding me, but I don't have to see his face to know Glenn.

"Just kill the bitches and help me to my feet," I snap. I really wasn't in the mood for jokes. Seeing is how I can taste irony blood in my mouth and they both left me in the parking lot. Over the three weeks a lot happened, the blonde chick from Woodbury showed up, apparently her name is Andrea, and she didn't recognize me so the entire time I glared at her with my gun pointed at her beneath the table. Lets see. Rick found ammo and Maggie and Glenn made up. Merle is still a bastard. No change there.

He turns from me, smashing two walkers' heads in with a bloody bat. I shuffle to my feet, pissed off and ready to take out some freaking Freaks. I kneel down to grab a metal rod when three are coming towards me. I thrust an end into one's head, her eyes yellow and skin olive green, the blood spurts out, spraying me with blood that is the consistency of jelly. I swing and hit another in the head, their wrinkling body falling with a thud.

The third swayed forward, and before I could bash its head in the bat swung and ripped the head clear off. The body standing there helpless before falling close to its head. Glenn gives me a cocky smirk with an eyebrow raise and the head begins to growl. "The fuck is that," I gasp at the sight of the head gnawing away at the air, very much alive. I give Glenn a doe eyes look, "that happens?"

"Headshot takes them out," he says with a sigh as if I should clearly know that. He opens up his hand, gesturing for the rod. I give it to him without hesitation and watch as he goes up and jams the end into it's head like it's a sword and the head is freaking rock. "Let's go, daylights burning Siren."

I avoid the bodies, following him into the mall. The open space is dark, the moist smell of mold and dust fine in the air. Cloths, papers, broken crap, blood stains line the floors. Most of the stores had the bars pulled down, others with smashed windows and more blood. It really is a good thing I am not that squeamish.

"Hey, up here," a female voice calls with a southern ring. Maggie was at the top of the broken down escalators. Her thick, short brown hair pushed behind her ears and a shot gun in her hands. We quickly follow, running up the steps.

Upstairs is almost identical to down. Except on the top level windows are boarded over, most of the stores unlocked. I yank my nine millimeter out, it still shakes in my hands even after two weeks of gun training.

"Any trouble out there," Maggie says, sifting through the crumbled '20% Off' papers. I shake my head slowly, thinking of the head that started moving around, instead of searching for it's missing body searching for meat to sink its teeth into. "I'm not expecting to find anything good here, but maybe some baby things or cloths."

"Okay, everyone stay close," Glenn orders, mostly looking at me. "I don't want to have to explain to Rick why I'm lugging your body around." I nod, not in any place to argue about it. Most of the people at the prison have learned my knack for curiosity. "Shout if you find anything." I go into the closest store before he finishes.

It's a cloths store. I try an act natural, flipping through the racks and checking the sizes as if it matters. A large black sweat calls me too it and I can't help but slip it on. It ends at my knees and the sleeves stretch out like wings.

I find a mirror nailed to the wall and stare at the girl. She is taller than I remember. Her hair pulled back in a messy pony tail. Her nose crocked and twisted with streams of dried blood, I quickly wipe it away with my sleeve. The only way I know its me is by the green converse in the mirror, the only thing I have left of my life. My grey eyes stare into the mirror, purple streaks under them suggesting I need some rest… nah I'm fine.

"Siren, you good," Maggie asks walking into the store. She smirks at the large jacket and admires a blouse on the rack. "Glenn found some energy bars, there're kind of stale and expired but its food," she reaches in a pocket, crinkling an energy bar. Extending her hand she stuffed it into my palm, knowing I haven't eaten since Carol made me four days ago.

"Thanks," I reply, shoving it into the jacket pocket. She frowns at that, but decides to let it go for now. "Some of these cloths will do some good, I mean fall is on its way and it'll start to get cold again." She nods, her eyes scanning the dark store.

"Maggie. Siren. We need to head back. Rick wanted us home before it started to get dark." We stare blankly at him when he enters, "and it is starting to get dark!" Maggie looks back at me and rolls her eyes, and I can't help but smile at it. Since Carl started avoiding me, I've been hanging out with them, mostly Maggie since she did teach me how to shoot.

In the time of five minutes, Maggie and I shoved cloths into a garbage bag as if we were on a shopping spree. The run had been a bust but we did get Judith some toys, cloths for everyone, new bed sheets and lots of towels. I nearly had a heart attack when I found a music CD, it was an old Journey album. "You think the Honda's radio works," I asked Maggie longingly. I hold up the album giving her large puppy dog eyes, and I think if she said no I would literally implode on myself. Instead she shrugged and Glenn had to shove us through the door.

"Can you put this on," I beg in the back seat. I lightly shove the case forward between them. Maggie sighs, opening up the CD and sliding it into the radio. She presses a button and blue lights flicker on. Fuzzy static is all I hear before a loud BAM cuts out the static and a static filled voice sings Don't Stop Believing. "Are you freaking kidding me?" My favorite Journey song cut out and I could hear the CD scratching against the CD played. "AAHHH take it out, take it out!"

Maggie slams her finger on the eject button and a steaming disk crumbles on the ground. I fall into the seat, crossing my arms and staring blankly in disgust. "Sorry Siren," she smiles. It really isn't funny. I am seriously going to be in a horrible mood for the rest of the day, not to mention what I did to Merle's stash of drugs earlier. Yeah I kind of hid them…. Or dumped them in the stream by the prison, and he may or may not know about it.

"Are you wearing a seat belt," Glenn asks, his brown eyes fixed on the rear view mirror. Was he serious? I was sprawled out across the seats, my knees scrunched up and my head against the door.

"Really Glenn, really?" Both his eyebrows raise and I can tell he isn't kidding. I sigh, sitting up and dramatically buckle my seat belt. The rest of the ride is completely silent, awkwardly silent. Finally we drove onto the dirt road, rocks smacking the Honda. Carol and Daryl open up the gates. I open the door and roll out before the car is at a stop.

Carol comes up, her cheeks rosy red as if embarrassed about something. Daryl smirks at her and Carol grins back. "How'd it go sweetie," she says quickly realizing I was there.

I frown. "Did I miss something?" Carol's face brightens more, even Daryl nervously scratches the back of his head with the barrel of a gun.

"What? No…" Carol chuckles, "so… how'd it go? Get anything good?"

"Nice subject change," I grin, deciding to let it go, "not really. Mostly cloths and some nick-knacks, but other than that," I shrug, "it was pretty much cleared out."

I hear quite foot steps behind me and find Rick, face to face. I jerk back, the hairs on my arms sticking straight up. My heart races again and I hear Carol giggle behind me. "What happened to your nose?" Oh I forgot about my nose. It doesn't even hurt anymore. But Rick's face tells me it doesn't look that great.

"I'm fine," I say, my voice sounding suddenly nasally.

"Ah huh. I'm taking you to Hershel."

"No really Rick, I'm fine." I was so tired of draining their medical supplies. The arrow, the bruises, the restless nights….

"So if I flick you in the nose you'll be fine?" Sounds extremely painful actually. I sigh, letting him lead me inside the prison.

Inside has become very welcoming. The air is still stale, and the smell of decaying flesh lingering but other than that it was like home sweet home. "So did I miss anything?" My eyes nervously look for Merle because if my estimations are correct, he'll be needing a fix right about now.

"I've decided to meet with the Governor," Rick quietly murmurs.

"What? Why? Why would you do that? Are you going to kill him?" My eyes are huge and glassy, my ears ringing.

"This needs to end. Nobody else needs to die." Except The Governor. Right Rick, the Governor needs to die? Rick? By the look on his face, I don't even want to argue with him. Instead, I break away and stomp to my cell.

My cell has been redecorated. I covered up the blood streak across the wall with a cute hanging cat poster, the stain on the floor with a fuzzy white carpet and I changed my dinky thin pillow with a thick, bird feather one. It wasn't much, but it beats the ditch.

I slam onto the bed, aggravation filling me. Rick would meet with The Governor. Then the Governor would kill him. What is event the point of that? Negotiation? What are they going to sit down and "talk" about it like two women during their time of the month? Arg! Nothing is in my control and I freaking hate it!

An angry voice pulls be out of the argument I was having with myself. An angry red-neck voice. His feet clinking on the ground. He mutters to himself as he walks past my cell. Then the clinking stops, and the red-neck changes direction and stops at my cell door. My heart races and the blood rushes to my head.

Merle glares through the dark, as if reading the crimes I've committed. "What do you want," I ask coolly.

"What have you done with my fuckin' stash princess, ain't nobody messes with my things and don't loss limbs?" I gulp the dry lump in my throat. "YOU DID DIDN'T YOU!" Crap the gulp was the clue, the golden ticket to my death, the answer to all Merle Dixon's questions.

His face reddens and I can't help but get a smirk on my face. I keep my mouth shut and watch as the vein on his neck pops dramatically. He is like a bull, ready to charge me. "So what if I did," I say with a shrug and a full on smile. Messing with him is too fun.


	23. Shorty and Legs Off to see The Wizard

Three things Merle Dixon hates.

People touching his drugs.  
People telling him what to do.  
Me.

Right now, we are playing the serial killer version of tag. He is it. After I smack talked him he came into my cell, I of course, pounced on the balls of my feet and struggled from his one arm. Running down the stairs, I stumble down the rest in a penguin on ice fashion. I hear the angry Dixon brother behind me and make a quick dash for civilization.

"What the hell are you doing," Rick's eyes demand the answer and locked on me as soon as I bolted out the doors of the prison. Outside was sunny, hideously sunny in my mind. I don't hear stomps down the stairs; Merle must have broken off some point there.

I catch my breath, or try to at least. I hold up a finger then collapse on the ground. Rick doesn't seem too pleased, he lifts me back on my feet and stairs straight into my eyes in a way that I feel my eyes burning. "Merle," I reply in a semi-regular voice.

His forehead creases when he frowns, something I guess I'll have to get used to. "What did you do this time?" What? Blaming me now are you? Sure, blame the teenage girl. Typical.

I cross my arms in protest; I think I know this man well enough to argue with him. "Why would you think _I _did it?"

He raises an eyebrow and his gaze shrinks me. "Well was it?"

Crap. Yes it was. I take a moment to think on what to say, and somehow, "he deserved it," came out in exclamation. He sighs, squeezing the bridge of his nose and putting the other hand on his hip. "Sorry," I shrug in a monotone voice, because in reality I don't give a damn.

"Do you want to get punched?" He crossed his arms in front of his chest and stood tall over me. I came roughly to his chin, but his eyes still had the power to shrink me.

"No," I answer with a glare. My eyes slowly drifted from his, catching site on a crack in the concrete and keeping them there.

"Hey! Look at me!" A rock in my throat rises and I quickly glance up then look away. "Siren," he warns and I anchor my eyes just above his brilliant blue eyes. He glares, capturing my gaze and holding me there. "What did you do to Merle Dixon?" I don't answer just stare completely lost in his angry look.

"There she is! There is the bitch, I oughta kill you girl!" Just as I suspected, an angry red-neck coming, huffing and buffing like a bull seeing the color red. Rick is focused on Merle, and I bolt the other way, I see the fence, and start towards it. I fly back expectantly, Rick has a hold of my hood, gripping it so tight his knuckles turn white. I gag, gasping for the air I had lost when I fell on the concrete.

Rick held out his hand, the other still on my hood. I take it without hesitation, and Rick turns, pulling out the gun from the holster and pointing it at the bull running our way. "Merle," he warns, pulling back with his thumb. Merle stops five feet from me, so close I can smell the chewing tobacco and sweat on him.

Merle gets an evil smirk, "you just wait girlie, I'll get yah for stealin' my stash yah hear?" He wipes the perspiration from his forehead, "Old Merle can still put cha in your place." I don't even want to know what that means.

I cling to Rick's arm from behind him, using Rick as a human shield. Rick throws me a glare, making my sides twist and energy pulse through me. "Did you take his stuff?"

"What… nothing…. No," I shake my head, holding up my free hand to prove it.

"Come on Officer Friendly, I got things I gotta do, you know girlie is lying." Rick keeps the death glare locked on me, I find a stain the color of rust on the ground and stare at it, unable to meet his eyes again. "She can't even look at cha, so pathetic," he snickers. A ping sound goes off in my head, slowly I meet the angry red-neck's eyes, glaring deeply into his.

"How dare you Merle! How. Dare. You." I let go of Rick's arm, walking towards the Dixon brother. _Weak and pathetic. _"You want your drugs back Merle!? Try looking in the bottom of that trench over there!" I stomp my feet all the way to him, pushing the shocked and furious red-neck out of the way. "You trash get lost, nobody wants you here! Nobody!" I feel my ears go red, the ice cold blue eyes twitch at the site of me. I see his hand slightly move, maybe arguing with himself whether to slap me. I don't give him the chance, stomping all the way to my cell.

I slam my head onto the pillow, closing the barred door on my way in. My heavy eyes threatening to close. I lay limp, lifeless under a soft blanket. I clutch the 4, my heart aching suddenly, I longed for protective arms around me. It had been almost a month since that night, the only time I can bring myself to think of him is when I'm alone. But I know when I close my eyes, I'll be right back in that room, or worse, in his arms safe and sound.

… ….

"Hey," my shoulder jerks backwards, "hello… Siren wake up." I groan, opening the wall of crust around my eyes to see sparkling blue eyes. The short boy was even shorter when he kneeled next to my bed. "Siren wake up!"

"What? God, I'm awake, don't gotta be such a jerk," I pull the blanket over my head with another frustrated groan.

The blankets are torn from my grip I thought was so strong. "No. Wake up we've got work to do."

"Carl," I moan, "you've ignored me for I don't know how long. What the hell do you want now?" I flop back on my pillow when I hear bickering downstairs. Red-neck bickering.

"What?" He flinched, "what are you talking about? Whatever, doesn't matter I just need you to come with me and forget any questions got it?"

"Oh Carl I get all tingly inside when you take control like that," I mock, stealing back my covers and burying myself in blankets.

"Fine. I'll just go kill the Governor myself," I heard Carl's shoes pitter on the floor, all high and mighty.

I kick free from the warmth of my cocoon, "don't get your panties in a twist Carl. You can't just go _killing _The Governor. What about Rick?"

"What about 'em?" Carl's usually playful blue eyes get cold and hard, something I've only witnessed once before. "Him and Daryl have gone off. They're going to meet him."

"Ugh, then let them take care of it," it seemed too early to plot killing The Governor, that was usually a mid-afternoon treat I gave myself. Oh but I wanted to, my energy even spiked when he said 'kill' and 'The Governor' in the same sentence.

"They aren't going to kill him and you know it, now get out of bed and help me get outta here." He turns, walking out the door with or without me.

I hesitate a moment, and a small voice inside my head says, _don't do this_. His voice. God, I have to stop doing that. I shake my head, looking down and opening my palm to see the 4. "Wait Carl," I scramble out of the sheets.


	24. Rogue

Two hours ago

"Carl you're making so much noise! Be quite!" I swear he was trying to purposely crunch leaves and snap twigs.

"Sue me Siren, sue me," he barks, trying ever so carefully—_Snap._ Carl sighs, grabbing the bridge of his nose like his dad does.

"Maybe this is a bad idea. Glenn and the rest of them will be looking for us, and you know they might actually kill him." My voice doesn't sound reassuring, probably because I don't believe it one bit. Not that Glenn and the rest of them are looking for us. Not that Daryl and Rick might kill him. Not that _this _is a bad idea.

"Just shut up and follow me towards the highway."

An Hour and a Half Ago

"Walkers! Shit! Carl!" I hold my gun out shaking at the dozens of drooling corpses.

"Put the freaking gun down you'll only draw more!" Even though a silencer was on both of our guns, a shot still drew in any near us closer. "Just… ugh," Carl reaches down, yanking out his knife.

"Wait… what are you…?" Carl dug into the body on the ground, black blood oozing from each side. Rotting flesh slaps me in the face, organs flop out on the sides helplessly. Carl takes a deep breathe, staring down at the body he just mutilated. "Carl what are you…?"

His hands reached into the stomach, the sound reminding me of Jello being mushed. He pulled out a long rope-like organ that dripping with blood and reeked of death. "Here," He gestured towards me.

I turn my head around, the walkers are at least two hundred yards away. "Uh huh, no way I can shoot just fine thank you."

"No time to argue do it now!" He tosses the organs at me, painting my red with cold blood. Carl finger paints on my favorite black sweater. "My turn lets go. Hurry." I kneeled down, my hands clammy, my muscles tense. "Go!"

I shove my hands into the stomach, it feels like playdo in my fingers and I want to scream as I break apart a liver onto Carl's cloths. I turn, the last thing I ate spilling out of me and on to the John Doe we were wearing as an accessory.

"You good?" I wipe the vomit from my lips, nodding my head completely terrified. "Start acting like a walker!"

Walkers surround us, women, children, men, all tripping over each other with one single thought. _Meat. _I get a better look at them now. Their skin pasty grey, torn and frayed, arms hanging on their last thread, legs ripped clean off. The Freaks eyes are dead inside, emotionless, only thinking of the thought that keeps the dead moving.

My heart sky rockets, pounding fiercely against my chest. Sweat trickles down my forehead, the smell triggering my gag reflex again. But how can I puke when I can barely even move enough to see if Carl is flipping out like me?

I got this. I got this. How hard could it be really? Just act like your dead… simple. A female walker growls and snarls, her bottom jaw missing, the tissues hanging free in the air. Her orange eyes stare deep into me, like trying to look inside my soul or something.

I am starting to doubt myself when I hear Carl whisper roughly, "hey! Siren. On the count of three we go into the woods got it? One… two—"

"Wait on three or after three—"

"Three!" He swan dives into the ditch and I quickly do I U-turn and join him. Only one walker sees us, the jawless woman. Her ankle is twisted, dragging on the highway, blood streaking across the road. "I got it," Carl jams his knife into her skull, throwing off his sweatshirt angrily in disgust. I take off my black jacket, abandoning it next to his.

The adrenaline finally settles and I realize what we've done. I grab Carl's shoulders, "are we insane? We can't do this," I shake him as I rant loudly. "Carl we are going to be in so much trouble if we don't end up dead first!" I fling him free from my hands, "why did I agree to come with you," I mutter, pacing the ground.

"Cause I would have gone with or without you. And I'd probably me dead by now."

"You think," I snap, I rub my eyes angrily. "We can still make it back in time before anyone realizes we are gone."

"That's a pipe dream Siren. They know okay? Of course they know we're gone. And they are going to be pissed. That is why we have to kill The Governor."

"Your logic is so screwed up Carl. You think if we kill The Governor will just be… oh I don't know… let off the hook or something?" I shake my head, placing my hands on my hips, "no Carl. No."

"Fine, go back then. See if I care Siren!" His hands gesture towards the highway, "follow it back to the dirt road and make a left. But I'm going."

"Shut up Carl." I feel my face get hot with rage. "Just shut your face and lead the way."

An Hour Ago

"Where are we even going?" My arms slouched, my legs numb, my stomach in knots.

"I gotta plan," Carl says, touching each tree like its whispering a secret to him.

"Well that sure is reassuring thanks Carl," I mock, sighing. This was defiantly a problem. If we came back to the prison, we'd be murderers. But can I even call it a murder? It's the Governor for Pete's sake. Does that count as a murder if you kill a murderer? "What do you think Rick is going to do when he gets back and we aren't there?"

"Search party most likely. He'll worry, be angry, then worry some more. We'll wonder back, he'll be happy, then angry again, but once he sees The Governor's head he will be happy all over again."

"Wait, we are going to cut his head off? Carl he isn't Medusa I don't think it matters—"

"No," he interrupts, "it has to be the head. Promise if you get there first you'll get the head?" I hesitate, worrying about the company I have. "DO IT!"

"Okay! Okay. I promise." It was a sick idea, but now I kind of like the thought of it. The Governor's head on a bloody stake….

Right Freaking Now

"They are still here," Carl says frustratingly, the fence rattles as he angrily leans against it. We're crouched down in tall grass, watching Hershel, Daryl, some guy I remember from the gate, and another man dressed in a red plaid tucked in shirt. He looked too nice to be in Woodbury… with _him_.

Something inside me tells me that Carl actually wanted Rick to kill him. Now that he sees they are still here, Carl's eyes get rock solid again. "Maybe its okay," I say watching Carl like he is a bomb ready to detonate at any given moment. His head turns slowly towards me, locking my eyes. "We'll just come out now, get the yelling over with, kill those men and then we can all take The Governor."

Carl shakes his head. "It has to be us. Just us Sirenity, you understand?" I flinch at my name, not remembering telling him that.

"Why Carl, why does it have to be us?"

His fists grip the grass, yanking out strips and throwing them in a pile. "Because it isn't fair."

"What?" Was he seriously giving me the five year old 'it isn't fair' tantrum? Is this what that is?

"This life," he practically shouts, "we deserve better Siren! We _need _better. I don't want Judith growing up in a world that _he _leaves and breathes in, ain't gonna happen." He sighs, yanking more and more grass. "Don't you understand? We write the new future! We do! Frankly The Governor doesn't sound right to me, I want him gone. He threatens my family, he is gone," Carl snaps his fingers to prove it. "Gone."

"Okay The Mayor, how do you purpose we kill a man twice both of our size?"

"The. Hell. Is. This?" The man I recognized from the gate in Woodbury jab my arm with the barrel of his gun.

Carl jumps to his feet, ready to ram the big guy in the stomach. I just sit on the grass, tiddling my thumbs and knowing I am completely and utterly screwed.

"Hey Daryl these yours," the buff man from the gate calls out. Wait did he say Daryl? Are they tight now or something?

I freeze when I see the other Dixon brother. First, he is shocked, but that quickly disappears with anger. He grabs Carl's arm, Carl squirms to get free but I'm sure he knows it isn't going to happen. "Hi Daryl," I say nervously, I wiggle my fingers in a wave.

"Lego of me," Carl gasps, smacking the air. The gate guy from Woodbury laughs, chuckling the entire way back to the warehouse.

"Give me your weapons," Daryl holds out his hand, ignoring Carl's punches in the gut. I reach in my back pocket, standing and hesitantly giving him the gun. Daryl's eyes are furious, face blood red with rage. I slid the gun into his palm. "Get going towards the car. Don't make me ask again." My legs turn to jello, only reminding me of the guts I wore, then reminding me of Carl and I's "generous" plan, thus leading me here.

I get to the car, tripping of my feet. Hershel stands next to the blonde man with round glasses, Hershel's eyes disproving. Andrea pouts, sitting against the wall of the building. The Governor was literally twenty steps away from me. The only thing separating us was a wall.

I sink against the car, dreading when Rick is finished. Daryl shoves Carl to the ground beside me, pacing around us and standing on his tippy toes to peek through the window from here.

"Two days' time," I hear a familiar voice, my brain explodes, my heart sinks and shatters in my chest, sweat flings out of my pores. It was him… The Governor. I can't bring myself to look, I slam my eyes closed, hearing his all too familiar footsteps away.

"What the hell is this," I hear loud after the sound of wheels cracking on a dirt road drove off into the distance. I peek through one eye, Rick is giving us both a death glare. Wait. Both of us? Why both? Carl was his kid here.

"Found them by the fence," Daryl says coolly, leaned against the car and spitting softly.

Rick's hand slides down his face in frustration. I hated the look he gave us, making my heart heavy all over again. "Did you two come all the way from the prison?" He places a hand on his hip, one leg out farther than the other. "Well?" I glance at Carl, who refused to meet his father's eye and keeps his hat down to cover his own eyes.

"Ye…" I clear my throat, "yes."

Rick groans angrily, "well who knows you've left?" He looks to Carl, realizing he isn't even paying attention goes back to me.

I gulp, "no one," I mumble.

"What?"

"No one."

"Yeah," he says disgusted, staring up at the sky as if asking God what to do with us.

"I'm sorry," I add, it is the only thing I can get past my dry throat.

He looks down at me, my knees tucked in, my heart making machine gun noises. Rick bites the side of his lip then orders, "get in the car both of you." Without hesitation I go, Carl slides in next to me, his face hidden beneath the hat. I know he is upset. I know he won't dare look at me. But I have to ask myself… what now?


	25. Dream On, Zombie Child

The car ride is silent, completely silent. No one says a word, and I am almost happy that nobody does. Rick occasionally give Carl and I the death glare in the rear view mirror, Daryl throws me disappointed looks, and Hershel, Hershel just keeps his head straight forward, not a word or a glare.

I shiver in the car, my teeth chattering. If only I still had my jacket…. "How'd ya'll even make it all the way here," Daryl asks in a low rough voice, staring out the window next to me. "Someone ain't watchin' you back home?"

Rick's blue eyes glue to the rear view mirror, demanding me to speak. I swallow the dry lump in my throat, "they were too busy watching Merle to notice us sneak out. And… we wore Freak guts to escape the walkers."

I feel the air tense and Rick's anger thicken. "You two could have died," Rick grits through his teeth.

"Yeah but we didn't," snaps Carl, only lifting up his hat to glare at Rick. I feel awkward in the middle, squished between a Dixon and Grimes sandwich. Carl disappears back under his hat and Rick keeps his eyes on the road again.

…..

"WHERE THE HELL OF YOU TWO BEEN?" Glenn's face is cherry colored red. His hair dramatically pushed back, his brown eyes fixed like a predator on his prey. I slam the car door. I've been dreading Glenn all day.

"Found them where we were supposed to meet this Governor guy," Rick says matter-of-factly, his hands on his holster around his hip. "Where were_ you_?"

Maggie runs up alongside Glenn, out of breath and her shirt sideways. "I'm gone five freaking seconds," I think aloud, disgusted by Glenn and Maggie's appearance.

"Excuse me what," Glenn snaps at me.

Crap. My heart starts to slam against my chest and sweat trickles down my forehead. I hesitate, then quickly find the words, "we were going to kill him… The Governor."

Rick slowly turns around, his brilliant blue eyes furious, his face pulled to a scowl. "You two were going to _kill _The Governor?"

Did I say that? I don't remember. God, I hate being the center of attention. I just nod quickly, trying whatever I can to dodge his eyes. "What," Maggie gasps in disbelief. Man, I should have asked her to join us… oh well.

"How? How in the hell we you going to kill him? Not to mention his two henchmen? Do you even use your head? What is wrong with you?" Rick crosses his arms, staring down at me, only me. Carl just stands there with his hat tilted towards the ground. Protecting his eyes from Mr. Medusa's death glare.

I cross my own arms in protest, stomping my foot down like I'm five years old again. "I used my head and nothing is wrong with me! I think I deserve to kill him Rick!"

"You don't get to make that call. You can't choose someone else's life," Rick says in a softer tone.

I feel my face scrunch, "what? Why? He did! He did when he killed my Four!" Tears string down my face, I try quickly to wipe them away but my hands can't work fast enough. "It isn't fair. Why can't I just kill him? What is so wrong about killing someone who is already bad?"

"It is a life Siren. No one else has to die." Rick uncrosses his arms, stuffing the thumbs in the loops of his pants.

"Except him Rick," I sob, "he has to." I don't even try and stop the tears anymore. I crash to the ground, rocks digging into my hands and knees. "WHY DIDN'T _YOU _KILL 'EM RICK?"

"If I killed him someone else would take his place!" He shouts over my shrieks. "We are going to war with him. Two days he gave us. Got it? Now dry it up and get inside." Rick turns from me and the crowd that now surrounded the car, stomping up to the prison.

The shocked group scattered away, mumbling and bickering between each other. Beth stood there, her face angry—no furious… _hurt. _Her blue eyes glared at me evilly. Her nose scrunched up and her arms crossed. "Beth," I whimper, extending a hand. She stares down at my bloody, pebble filled palm, turning from it and walking away.

"Promise you'll always have my back," Carl says, watching as Beth wonders away.

I wipe the tears away, smearing blood and dirt across my forehead. "Ha, like you did when Rick was yelling at _me_? You should have had my back then."

"We have common interests, you and I. Which only makes me more keen on trusting you."

"Jesus Carl, you talk like we're in a freaking James Bond movie. Fine I promise. I'll always have your back." With that Carl turns to face me, holding out his small hand. I stare blankly at it, worried about what I am getting myself into, but when I hear Tobias' discouraging words, _don't do it, _I latch on to Carl Grimes' hand, dusting myself off.

I connect my fist to Carl's arm. "Ouch," he winces, grabbing his arm and frowning at me.

"_That _is for ruining my favorite sweater," I run off towards the doors.

I ignore the stares, the head shakes, the frowns and scowls and go straight to my bed, scurrying under the covers. The sound of Hershel's crutches and Judith's whines are the last thing I hear before my eye lids become heavy and I drift off.

…

_I can't do it. I can't do it. I can't do it. "Come on wimp just go," says a cheerful voice. I turn my head and find one of my sisters, Veronica. Her black hair is perfectly straight, her brown eyes glistening in the sun. _

"_It isn't that easy," I stare down at the pool of water, it is at least a fifty-five feet drop. I sit, unmoving in a water slid. A smile threatening to rip my face. "I can't do this Ver. I can't!" _

"_Maybe you just need a push," she giggles. _

"_WHAT? NO Veronica DON'T!" It was far too late. By the time, I screamed her hands pushed against my shoulders and I was zooming through the water in a downwards spiral. I let out a high-pitched girly scream as my body bolted towards the ground, my mind spinning in three sixties and my muscles tensed in place. _

_My body falls into the water. I flinch at the freezing temperature, my eyes opening as I sank to the bottom, bubbles surrounding me. Ah, that was fun. I smile, and start towards the top. I see my sister Veronica's face, rippling through the wall of water. She waves her hand I jump towards the sun, only to find my legs pulled down. _

_Nothing is holding my feet, yet I'm glued to the bottom of the pool. I struggle a bit, yanking my body left and right. My lungs needed air desperately. I knew what was happening—I saw Titanic—or did he freeze to death? Doesn't matter, focus Siren. My mind wonders again, air impossible to keep in my dying lungs. _

_I stare up at my sister hopelessly, thinking if I were to die right now, her smiling face is the last thing I want to see. Veronica keeps smiling, waving at me as if I'm doing tricks for her. A shadow appears behind her, Veronica struggles as the shadow latches on to her, slitting her throat in front of me. Blood splatters in the pool, droplets sinking down to my feet. _

_Veronica's body falls lifeless to the ground and all air that was in me escapes in a bubbly scream. I suck in water, maybe thinking I could actually use water for air. The water was thicker than any average pool, and suddenly the clear, purified oasis became thick, iron tasting blood, and it filled my lungs. _

_The sun and light is gone, all I see is red, everywhere red. I keep kicking my legs, swinging my arms, twisting my body all while gasping for air and only find hot blood. _

_I am dying. Out of air and choking on my loved one's blood. I'm dying in one of the most happiest memories I hold. No—I'm dead in one of the happiest memories I hold. My no longer struggling body sinks like a rock to the bottom of the pool. Dead. _

_The shadow man above the pool laughs, adjusting his eye patch over his mutilated eye. _

…

"What is it Siren? What is it? What are you doing?" My eyes flicker open and I find myself in the cafeteria of the prison. Rick is staring at me with cautious wide eyes.

"What do you want Rick," I say sleepily, not fully aware of what is happening. I am pretty sure I am still dreaming, cause I don't think a tiger with zebra colored nails is standing in a tux behind Rick. Oh and the tiger is also wearing pink fluffy slippers. "I said I was sorry didn't I?" It hurts to think about it. "Wait I didn't—I'm sorry."

"Put the knife down Siren," Rick gingerly moves toward me, a hand out.

"What knife?" Rick points at my hands I look down at the stainless steel kitchen knife in my hands. "Ahh, what the hell is that doing there," I say, but do not put the knife down. I look over to the tiger for answers, but he just shrugs. "Rick! Why do I have a knife?"

"You must have been sleep walking. Can you put the knife down?"

"That's weird," I state, swinging the knife around in the air, "I've never sleep walked before."

"First time for everything," Rick says with a nervous smile. "Can you give me the knife?"

_Children shouldn't play with knives, _says the tiger with zebra nails wearing a tux and fluffy pink slippers.

"Oh shut up Mr. Tiger. You don't know what the fuck you talking about," I swing the knife around a couple of times to prove my point. "I can play with whatever I want to play with."

_Ha-ha, that's what she said, _the tiger in the tux and fluffy slippers with the zebra nails snickers.

"Ugh. I hate 'that's what she said' jokes. You should know that. You know what Mr. Freaking Tiger, I should have ripped your fluff out when I had the chance." I turn to Rick, the knife loosely in my hands, "tell 'em Rick. Tell the tiger that he is lucky I don't take this knife and stab it where his heart is supposed to be."

"Okay." Rick steps closer, grabbing my hand and taking the knife out, tossing the knife on the table. "Come on," he says, scooping me up in his arms like I'm nothing.

I curl up to his chest, it smells like dirt, smoke, and worst of all the Governor's liquor. I don't mind it though. I yawn, Rick carefully brings me back to my cell, setting me on the cot. "Tell the tiger to leave me along will yah?"

"Sure," he whispers, pulling the blankets over me. Rick stands up from the crouch, "stay in here okay? Have any more bad dreams just shout got it?" He leans against the door from, his arms crossed.

"M'kay," I whisper, the last thing I hear is the lock of my cell door.


	26. Broken

When I open my eyes again I'm on the floor, wrapped in blankets, one leg refusing to leave the bed, the other tucked under the bunks. My head pounds against my skull, drool on the side of my mouth, and my eye lids crusted over with dry tears. I manage to squeeze a groan from my sore chest.

"What happened," I whisper roughly, rolling over to face the ceiling. The memory of strange slippers and the smell of liquor is all I remember. I blink through tears, swiping them away hurryingly. "Ah," my head explodes, beating against my cranium. "Carl," I call out weakly, "anybody?" I waddle from the covers, the blanket getting twisted around my feet.

I press my head out the bars, my clammy hands gripping the bars. Locked…. Tears came without warning, falling in a trickle down my face. I crash back on the concrete, the weight of reality crushing my body. I curl on my fuzzy rug and the blanket, sobbing into my hands. _Why am I crying? Why? _

A soothing voice, calming and deep whispers in the back of my mind, _it's okay to cry sweetie, get it all out. _Angered I cross my arms and shout out, "TOBIAS WOULD NEVER SAY THAT! HE'D TELL ME TO SUCK IT UP! STOP TALKING TO ME!"

"Siren?" Maggie steps in from the shadows, her face stark white.

"Whaaaaat," I drone, flailing my arms dramatically.

"Who are you talking to?"

I look around, was I talking to someone? Nope. "No… no… nothing," I say with a crazed look in my eyes staring down at my fingers. "Who… who… who were you talking to?"

She frowns in the darkness, "I was _talking _to you Siren. Are you alright?"

"Huh? Oh yeah," I whisper with wide eyes staring at her, "yeah, I'm per… perfectly fine." I start to giggle at the word "fine" cause am I really "fine"? Is anyone ever one-hundred percent "fine"? The giggles turn into laughs that echo through the drably, moist prison.

_Sirenity maybe you should lie down. Take a break. You need one. _Four says, his voice silky smooth yet sharp and painful in my head.

"Shut up," I whisper, grabbing handfuls of hair and pulling. "Shut up," I say a little louder. "I said shut up!"

Maggie steps back gingerly, her eyes widened in horror. "I'm gonna get Rick," she mutters and runs off, leaving me with my slipping sanity and his voice.

"Why are you doing this," I cry, lying on the floor hopelessly. _I love you Sirenity Tailor. _"Noooo," I scream as loud as my ripping throat could make. I stomp my feet on the cold ground, kicking and screaming his name, begging for him to stop.

"She was like this when I found her," Maggie's voice says. I roll around on the ground, shrieking in pain as he tells me how much he loves me. "What do you want to do?"

"Get Hershel," an unwanted familiar voice orders, quite footsteps run away and down the steps. "Siren," he calls out softly, the jangling of keys and the creaking of my cell door ripples through my cell and into my aching head.

"What Rick? What?" I yell with hot tears soaking my face. I don't even know why I am crying anymore. Maybe just to cry. Rick kneels down eye level with me. His hand comes to my forehead, softly stroking my head. "I'm going crazy aren't I," I get through trembling lips.

He swipes some tears away with his thumb and whispers so only I hear, "only as crazy as expected." I shudder, avoiding his blue eyes as he helps me to my feet.

…..

I was fine the rest of the day. Fine…. I actually went searching for Merle, which was weird. But there I was, my face swollen from crying, looking for the angry red-neck I had unresolved issues with. "Hey old man," I smirk, sliding into a room I've never been into. Merle sits helplessly on the ground, stuffing, plastic and match books scattered around his feet. His eyes blood red.

"Girlie," he grunts, trying desperately to find anything that would get him high.

"You could just go cold turkey," I suggest, by the glare on his eyes I decide to reach in my pocket and pull out his bag of white powder. His eyes widen and he bolts on his feet. I toss it at him. "I started to dump some in the drench, then I thought, you know this could really come in handy." Merle plays with the bag between his fingers.

"I should da killed yah when I got the chance to… but I have to say I'm glad I didn't. Little Princess is more than meets the eye ain't cha?"

"Yeah well," I say with a shrug. Some of the hatred that I felt towards Merle had died. I still hated him of course. But maybe a little, tinny, tiny bit less."Watcha gonna do, I'm awesome."

He holds up the bag of what looks like salt. "Wanna lil'?"

I hadn't really thought about it. Me… doing drugs? Very uncharacteristic if you ask me. My mother would flip a freaking table over. But she is dead, and my body is numb of emotions at the moment so I hesitantly give a, "hell yeah, anything to make the headaches go away."

And that is when my subconscious, which has been possessed by Four's voice, is cussing me out on how this is an awful idea. Merle gives me a pinch in my hands, but it is so small—will it even do the trick? Merle sticks his entire nose in the bag and sucks. His eyes widened, his nose covered in white powder. "Woah," he gasps, sliding along the wall and on the floor.

"Here goes," I press the powder to my nose, thinking about an American Dad episode were Roger did meth—haha Roger. Before I know if I inhale sharply through my nose, singeing powder shooting to my brain, burning like salt in a wound. "Ahhh," I sigh, falling to the ground. Four's voice has become muted and within five minutes the drugs take full effect. "Sorry mom," I whisper before completely forgetting everything and anything that ever mattered.

…

Bubbles. Purple, blue, yellow, pink bubbles everywhere. I'm standing with a knife in my hands, popping the bubbles like a ninja. Swish, swish, swish—aw I just cut Merle's arm. "Moder-ficker," Merle laughs.

"I would say I sorry man," I shrug, "but I ain't. It was the bubbles… there _everywhere." _After popping bubbles I ninja chop everything in the small room saying, "cause I'm badass," every time I split something. Then I spin around, crashing into the mangles pieces several times. I fall to the ground, Merle left after I started singing Ice Ice Baby aloud.

I laugh and smile because I don't know what is happening. It is like every emotion is temporarily muted. Everything slowly becomes black and I sleep, just sleep, no nightmares or creepy dead things coming back to haunt me, just sleep.


	27. Taking Back Some Sanity

**Guys we've made it to 70 reviews! Golf Claps for all of you! I'm throwing a mini "We've made it to 70 reviews" party, which will probably just be me and maybe my cat…..  
Anyho my pretties I'll give yah something to review about and stop droning on. Just tell me whatcha think… even if it sucks. **

….

I lay there on the ground, every inch of my body lifeless and useless. I'm like a blob on the floor, my eyes focused on a piece of trash and fixed there. I don't even remember what happened last night. Wait—what happened?

I sit up, lucky I don't have anything to puke up. I wipe the drool from the side of my face, blinking around in the bright empty room. As I lean against the wall, I can't help but watch the dust move around in the air.

"Merle," A starchy, rough voice calls out, followed by the creek of the door. "Merle where you at?" Daryl stopped in his tracks, dropping the hands that were around his mouth down. "What's wrong with you?"

I gulp dryly, staring blankly at the man. What do I tell him—I got high with your big bro and crashed on a pile of trash? I fell asleep? While I think of excuses that don't normally lead to someone going to jail, Daryl paces the room.

"You seen my brother kid?" Daryl struts closer to me, catching a whiff of whatever the white powdery stuff was. "Did you snort somethin' my brother gave you?"

"Dude," I say as glitter starts floating around his head. "I'm no kid. I'm like sixteen," and I hold up four fingers to prove it. I must still be hooked on the crap, Daryl stomps to my side, aggravatingly picking my up by the arm. "Where we gonna go? Following the yellow brick road?"

Daryl kicks the door open, dragging me along with him. I hum the lyrics to a Fall Out Boy song, skidding along the dark hallways. Next thing I know I am tossed on the floor of the cafeteria, eyes locked on me. "Found her in one of Merle's hangouts, she's completely stoned."

"Well not completely," I say matter-of-factly, pointing like I know what I'm talking about. "I slept most of it off tomorrow." Did I say tomorrow? I meant yesterday—or was that today? Stop spinning!

I catch site of Rick, who cradles a ball of pink in his arms, swaying the baby back and forth. Beth sulks, a glare frozen on me. Carl is in the shadows, watching from a distance I know it. Can't he come to my rescue now? Are we still doing that "trust" thing?

"Wait, Daryl where are you going," says a familiar voice that makes my stomach churn with fear and embarrassment. Her frail figure stood in the doorway carrying a loaded rifle, her grey hair was messily spiked in certain places.

"Gotta find Merle," Daryl mutters, his footsteps disappearing down the hall. There I am. Left with Rick, Beth, and Carol, maybe Carl but who knows with that kid.

Carol's long, skinny fingers clasp on to my chin, lifting my face up. I tried to jerk away merely because her hands were so cold. "What were you thinking? Drugs? Really Siren? I am disappointed." My heart sunk and shattered into a million pieces, making me feels horrible all over again. She dropped my face and sighed, "clean yourself up and wait for me and Hershel in your cell." It was an order, and stoned or not I didn't want to wait to see what would happen if I didn't listen to her.

I hoped to up drowsily, my wobbly and unsteady feet lead me to my cell. I wished to be in my comforting bed, but when I got there it was anything but comforting. It looked the same blankets in a bundle, the shaggy white rug, kitty poster, the leaning tower of books in the corner. My heart puttered against my chest, my body went numb.

The cell was dark, dark and damp, the air embedded with dust. I plop down on the bed, staring cautiously at everything. Yes, it was the same, but the atmosphere had changed from welcoming to hostile. I didn't feel safe in my room anymore.

….

Hershel had grumpily given me more colorful pills, not telling me what exactly they did. A half an hour later I was puking anything and everything, my head throbbing, sneezing frequently and sobbing at times cause I felt the need to. Rick had come in and given me a serious _responsibility _lecture.

"Are you okay Rick," I interrupt between the subjects drugs are bad and how I've upset Carol.

Rick crosses his arms, "it sounds like your changing the subject…."

No I wasn't. I really honestly wasn't. He just really looked horrible. Come to think of it, Rick always looked kind of on the edge of exploding or falling into a peaceful sleep. Now he just looked pissed, pissed, confused and moody. I shake my head, a shooting pain quickly reminding me not to do that.

"I'm fine Siren."

"Did Daryl ever find Merle?" I hope I didn't sound worried for Merle. How would that sound—me being worried about the man who has the only stash of drugs here? "I mean… Daryl sounded worried 'bout him you know?"

Rick glared at me sleepily, rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ah," he sighs frustratingly.

"I really am sorry Rick," I repeat for I don't know—the fifth time. I was strangely. Maybe not sorry I finally got some sleep or sorry I had fun for once, but sorry I disappointed him.

He removes his hand from his face, only to put it on his waist. He raised an eyebrow at me, staring deeply with his crazy dark blue eyes. I bet he is trying to get in my head.

I'm nervous, tapping my fingers lightly on the bed frame and leaning on the edge of the cot. "I am sorry," I whimper, trying to read his locked wall.

"The Governor wants you and Michonne." My mind shuts down in that moment. I have to blink a few times as if to check if I am dreaming. I trying and swallow, realizing I've forgotten. "He says there wouldn't have to be any more bloodshed."

"I hear my dead boyfriend's voice in my head," my eyes widen with shock. Why the hell did I say that? "How good is a soldier who's on the break of insanity right?" My eyes dart the ground, "at least I'll be doing some good if I go with him."

"WHAT?" Rick latches on to my chin a lot harder than Carol did, bringing my eyes to his. "That isn't what I meant." Tears are catching in his hand now, I stare at him through a wall of salty, warm water. "I don't believe him, and I would never give you or Michonne up, not to him."

"But you thought about it didn't you?" I shake with how much I'm crying. "You have to think about it Rick! I don't want you guys to die because of me!"

"Listen to me Siren. You're not insane. You're not responsible for anything. You're _not _going with The Governor. Keep your mouth shut about it though. Got it?"

"I wasn't lying when I said I heard his voice. Rick its torture," I whine, "I can't take it anymore! I want to just blow my brains out on the wall… or… or got to The Governor and save people!"

"Stop it. You're not crazy, you've lost someone you love, and you haven't given yourself time to accept it… that's all it is Siren." I frown, the last tear falling to the floor. It didn't sound like he was talking to me just then. "You aren't going to him. I've thought about it, even made a plan, but I won't do it… I can't do it you understand? Michonne is with Merle right now, Daryl's gone to stop him. And you are going to get better."

"Rick you could save your family… I could save your family."

He drops my chin and tells me, "your apart of that family, and I'll be damned if I let that bastard get ahold of you." Rick turned and left the cell. Leaving me alone with my thoughts.


	28. Prep Time

I had another nightmare; I woke up in Carl's cell. I was covered in a sheet of cold sweat, my hair a black nest on my head. My shoes were also gone—weird since I found it bad luck to take them off. Bare foot and curled up to Carl, I wiggle free from the arm he has wrapped around me.

The nightmare was revolting. My mind still tried to circle around it. It was about _him… _The Governor. I had the option of leaving, going with him and risking being tortured, maybe raped, probably beaten, and then killed, and I didn't. Therefore, he killed all of them. Rick. Carol. Carl, even little Judith, then bathed in their blood under the hot Georgia sun. God I hate Georgia, should've left when I had the chance….

I scurry through the hallway, silent as death itself past the snores. I am almost to my cell door when Rick steps out of my room, tiredly drinking out of a crushed plastic bottle. "Sleep walking again," he grunted.

"What? I have never sleep walked. Rick I don't sleep walk," I tell him matter-of-factly. I think I'd know if I sleep walked before.

"Oh you've sleep walked, something about Mr. Tiger," he says with a smirk. I have no idea what he is talking about.

"Is Daryl back yet," I ask worriedly, no one could be as worried as Carol though, I don't even think she went to sleep last night. Michonne was back though…. No Merle. No Daryl.

"No," Rick answers, his eyes locking on my feet and frowning. "Where are your shoes?"

"I don't sleep walk Rick," I snap, going into my cell and finding my shoes nailed to my ceiling. He shrugs with a slight grin, staggering off. I peek my head out of my cell, "hey did you sleep last night?"

"I kept watch," he shouts from downstairs. I yawn and climb up to the top of the bunk, yanking down on the shoes nailed to the ceiling. Now where are those socks?

…

"Noooo," I fall to the ground, sobbing and chocking on my own tears. Merle was dead. Daryl clung to Carol's side like a puppy after. I find a pillow and scream into it. This was the last straw, the last death, the last freaking one!

I am turning myself into The Governor.

I don't even care. I am not taking the chance. I go into my cell, thinking I should pack things, then I realize the only thing I own are my shoes and the 4 necklace. Crouched on the ground, I trace my fingers along the bedazzled four, wishing I had a pair of strong arms around me now, lemon in my nose, his breath on the back on my neck. But Four was dead. Been dead for…. God don't think about it.

I wipe away anything on my face, try to at least. I shouldn't be like this. I hated Merle… hated him. He was like the old, mean family mutt that no one wanted but big brother kept around the house. And now he was dead. I stand after feeling a jolt of energy. I can do this. I can do this. I will do this for them. I will.

I hyperventilate into my hands, panting rapidly. Finally, I crawl out of my creepy cell and find Carl leaning against the railing, the rim of his hat cocked down, covering his eyes. I hadn't told him about waking up in his bed, decided it best to keep that to myself. He was a thirteen year old boy after all, a sixteen year old girl in his bed sounded strange to me. "Hey Shorty," I gasp, wiping the perspiration and tears on my sleeve.

"We gotta talk," he says coolly, cocking up his hat just so I could see his blue eyes.

"What about," I shuffle to my feet, my body sore.

"The Governor. I thought that was obvious."

I shake my head, "man the votes been taken already."

"Screw what they say! What about our agreement Siren! You still got my back right?"

"Yeah Carl, geez what is it?"

"I'm not allowed on the field," he mutters, spitting at the ground in disgust. "Dad won't let me. But he'll let you, apparently you're a 'good shot' or something."

"I don't see where this is going Carl… but I really need to start packing. You know for the whole trick thing."

Carl's blue eyes glare at me, "kill 'em Siren. You gotta do it. You, nobody else. Protect our family okay?" I nod and Carl walks off.

…..

"Everyone ready," Rick asks, everyone's things are in the Honda including my rug, comforter, and poster, plus my feather pillow. I wear a black bullet proof vest that doesn't fit well, faded jeans, my black hair is pulled back and I have to say I feel pretty badass right now. Carl is basically pouting, he won't speak, won't smile, won't get in the car when Rick begs. Finally, Carl plants himself on the benches and waits.

I'll be with Rick and Daryl in the tombs, waiting for the army to arrive. That's what they think anyways….

I slink in the shadows, watching, waiting, listening. Rumors have been spread that Maggie and Glenn are getting married, which makes me angry for some reason. Like unbelievably angry at the idea of it all. So I try and avoid them as humanly possible when we're all gathered in the front of the prison.

I hear the snap of a finger and Rick's pointing at me and signaling me to come. "You ready," he asks staring down at me, his eyes going down to my bright green shoes and up.

"As ready as I can be," I answer nervously, my eyes shift around, maybe trying to find Carl in all this madness, he isn't at the bench anymore.

"M'kay, well I need you to be one-hundred percent sure you can do this." His eye brows crash together seriously.

"Yeah," I gulp, "I'm ready Rick."

….

**Mwahahahah you guys have to wait until tomorrow to get the next chapter! (Sorry I felt like being a little evil to you guys) G' Night!**


	29. Scars

My stomach crawled with anticipation. I was cloaked in sweat and dirt, my heart ready to explode inside my ribcage. I was ready for this. I was ready.

"Calm down this'll be easy," Rick assures in a hoarse whisper.

"Yeah… easy," I retort, trying to wrap my mind around how to sneak away from Rick. We wait in a darkness of the tombs, waiting, listening, praying this works. Daryl is in another hallway somewhere, waiting and listening. The gas canister in my hand rattles obnoxiously and again Rick has to shush me.

My body goes numb as the sound of the rusty hinges creaking open echoes through the tombs. Footsteps edge closer, knifes scrap against the wall. The air becomes stiff, the room cold.

"I'm scared," I admit for the first time. My body shakes and trembles all the way down to my toes. Everything is happening so fast… too fast. Suddenly large arms scoop me closer to his warm chest and hold me there for a moment. I close my eyes, feeling completely and utterly safe for the first time in a long time. When he lets me go, nothing needs to be said… he already said it.

_Don't do this… please. _There is was again. His voice in my head. I assure him I have to silently and when I see the first foot I rip the tag off the canister and roll it free. _Bang! _Screams echo out and smoke fills the room. "Run," Rick orders after the second bang, yanking on my arm and disappearing down the hallway.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to him then dive into the fog. A hand latches on to my wrist and pulls my closer. There I am, face to face with the man who walker through my nightmares. The red emergency light lit half his strong built face. "The eye patch really ties the whole evil look together," I snicker, my lips trembling.

His so called army, scurries away in terror. "If it isn't my beautiful soldier, comin' to finally do the dirty work," his southern drawl slithers. He reaches back for his gun gingerly, as if letting me watch as he slowly kills me. I shove my weight into him like a train, sucker punching the first thing my fist touched. Which happened to crunch.

He gasped for air, his hands holding in between his legs. I smile with my nice work, then his fist makes my jaw crackle. Pain engulfs my face and the air is knocked from my chest. I spit, blood dripping from my mouth. "Ready to tango bitch," I say, holding up my fists.

The Governor smiled, standing with his legs crocked. "I remember it well, the delicious taste of human life in the air, like your boy… whatja call 'em, faggot name like Tobias?" I stiffen, my jaw the least of my problems. "You'll be next sweetheart." His hand comes swinging and clocks my jaw again.

I scream, diving at him as the fog sinks to our feet. My hands dig into his skin. He lets out a satisfying wail, blood popping up as skin builds on the sides. "Scream bastard scream!" We fall to the ground, my legs wrapped around his torso, squeezing as hard as I can. His cold hands clasp my neck, closing off my throat. I panic, continuing to dig into his skin.

_The knife Siren! The knife! _Thanks Tobias, I love you man. I reach in the back pocket of my jeans as he chokes me. I gag, trembling as I latch on to a six inch switch blade. "You will die girl," his grip tightens. I feel the blood leave my head, darkness creeping up in my eyes. I drop the switch blade, my hands leave his chest and try and pry his hands from my neck.

The Governor's hands leave my neck, I close my eyes and for once am glad I'm not dead. But then I remember….

"Ahhhhhhh," a metal blade digs into my cheek. I roll off in and scoot to the wall, trying to hold together my bloody face. The Governor shuffles to his feet, huffing with an the same evil expression he had when I knocked down the picture frame months ago. Tear run down with blood and as he approaches closer, my heart rate thuds against my chest.

So I close my eyes. Looking for _his _voice in my head. _Tobias? Tobias you there? I'll be there soon okay…. _"Please God… _forgive me_."

BANG!

"Siren get up! Siren," fog covered the room again, The Governor now where in site. My ears ring uncontrollably. "Siren damn it get up!"

I blink, trying to see through the thick haze and walls of tears. "Tobias?"

"No. Tobias is dead sweetie, its Rick you need to get up now!" His voice is hurried and panicked. "Come on we gotta go."

My arm is tugged on. "Oh Rick I'm sorry."

"We can talk about it later, let's go!" I'm on my feet and blood rushes to my head violently. Tears, blood, and sweat drip down my chin. I find myself looking for The Governor, maybe he disappeared in the fog or something….

"Where's The Governor Rick?"

The sun greets me outside, followed by the familiar faces. But no army. No Governor. "God Siren what the hell did you get into!?" Michonne gets to me first and I realize I'm holding Rick's hand tightly. Rick slips out of the finger lock and goes towards Carl. "This hurt…?"

"Yeah Christ that hurts! Stop it," I bat her away with my hands, my face stinging but her soft hands keep touching my face.

"You try and stop him did you?" I nod, tears still coming down. "We're following them… you still coming?"

I hiccup in tears, "if Rick will let me go." She nods, taking me to Hershel.

….

I don't stop crying the entire time Hershel stitches me up, my jaw starting to grow purplish bruises. "We aren't going to Woodbury," Glenn says holding Maggie's hand. I lean against the Honda, wiping my face of salty tears. "We are going to stay here and protect the prison."

Rick nods, ordering the okay, "thank you." He turns around facing me and my body stiffens again. "You aren't going." I nod, really in no shape to argue. I'll just stay and help Carol unpack, hoping that they come home safe.

…..

The sun was beginning to turn the sky orange. I sit crouched on the ground, flicking pebbles into the cracks. When I finally do look I see them. A bus coming in, the Honda leading the way. My heart races and I jump to my feet. "There here! There here!"

Everyone crowds outside, waiting, watching. The bus stops and off comes a man with round glasses and light blonde hair, I quickly remember him from the warehouse. Following him are old women, old men, children! My stomach churns with excitement.

"What is this," I hear Carl snap at Rick.

"There here to stay," Rick tells him. Carl turn, stomping off. There I am, watching the sunset with my family… and I know… I'm finally home.

…

**The End? You guys want me to continue or is this a good place to end it? I could even just start writing a sequel, but I really want to know if you want to continue. **

**Its up to you. Thanks for following me in all these…. 29 chapters…. **

**Love ya. **


	30. THE END

**This is the end of part one. As you may have guessed there will be a sequel! I've decided to called it "Feels like Home" so if you guys want you can follow it or whatever... **

**Anyways... it won't be following the story line anymore, but I can promise more awaits for Siren. Oh and Milton's still alive... maybe its just because I love him so much or he has something to do with the story... you'll have to read on! **

**Love you guys! Hope I haven't wasted your time by continuing this story...**


End file.
